The Day Is Closing In
by Jayneysuk
Summary: Three women suspected murdered, twenty years on and no evidence. As the team piece together the case relationships are tested and choices have to be made.
1. Chapter 1

_**Title: The Day is Closing In**_

_**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**_

_**Rating: K+**_

_**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**_

_**Authors Notes: I**__**'**__**m not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**_

_**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**_

_**--**_

_**The Day Is Closing In**_

_**Part One**_

"The problem with bodies this old is that any evidence that might have been there has been removed by the ravages of time," Eve announced, looking around at each of the room's occupants in turn.

Boyd glared back at her, his impatience evident for all to see.

"I can't tell whether they were raped," she continued ignoring his frustration. "So far there doesn't seem to be any indicators of torture, well . . ."

"You're sounding more like Grace every day."

Four pairs of eyes turned rapidly to stare at Spencer.

He wisely kept his mouth shut, not even trying to explain away his comment. Beside him Stella grinned, stifling her usual taunting.

"There are no visible nicks to the bones, or at least none pre-mortem so that rules out a knife, just a few little critters. No sign of a gunshot wound, but if it went into tissue I wouldn't expect to find one. I am trying to get a bone expert to come and take a look in case I've missed anything," Eve explained, as frustrated as the rest of them that there appeared to be no evidence. " The lack of clothing remains suggests they were wearing cotton but the women all went missing in Summer so . . ."

"Strangled?" Grace asked, trying to move the discussion forward to something positive, her eyes darting frequently to Boyd, noting he was folding and unfolding his arms across his chest, his temper barely controlled.

Eve nodded. "That was my conclusion but I'm missing some of the bones."

Boyd rose to his feet and began to pace, trying to keep his frustration checked. Reciting the Tempest had long since ceased to work which only left focusing his mind on something else. That wasn't working either.

"I'm going to head out to the farm later." The farm she was referring to was her body farm, her experiments and the place she seemed to spend most nights. "I want to compare my results with my patients. See if it answers some of my questions."

"I'd settle for one of my questions," Boyd grumbled.

"Maybe Spence should come," Stella interjected with a smirk.

"Huh?" Sometimes Spence just couldn't follow the thread of the conversation.

"It would be the closest you've got to a woman in weeks."

Grace chuckled despite herself. In recent weeks the constant ribbing of Spence had become more obtuse. His own fault, she had to conclude. For a smart man he had been incredibly stupid and Eve and Stella were not going to let him forget in a hurry.

Boyd wandered back into his office, his door closing firmly behind him.

Grace took a deep breath. "Why don't you head on out, Eve. There's not a lot more we can achieve here tonight." She rose to her feet, moving towards the closed office door.

"That mean I can take off, too?" Spencer Jordan asked hopefully, salivating over the image of a quick pint on the way home.

She turned, almost grinning. "Yeah, if you want to invoke the wrath of God." He didn't answer when she knocked and as usual she didn't wait. "Something on your mind?" Grace asked, settling herself on a chair.

He shrugged, his back to her as he continued to struggle to control himself. "Just the usual."

"Ah."

He turned and gave her what for all intents and purposes was a smirk. "That's it? Ah?"

"There's little I can do to ease your frustration," she said lightly, pressing her lips together. "Ok, there's little I can do in the office," she corrected at his smile.

"I have blinds."

She ignored him. "You wanna finish the board?"

"Sometimes Grace you're just a spoil sport." He suddenly became serious. "I just hate that we're working through evidence twenty years old."

Grace waited patiently, not wanting to point out the obvious.

"Whatever evidence might have been left on the bodies is gone and they didn't have the resources we do now."

"Eve has gone over Caroline Hedges body with a fine toothcomb and there's nothing. She's run every possible test." So far they had nothing, just three dead women and very little to go on. Patience unfortunately wasn't Boyd's forte. "What do you want us to do tonight?"

The case had been theirs for less than forty-eight hours and as much as he would have liked to have solved it in seventy-two it was never going to happen. Instead it would be slow and painstaking as they tried to piece together the pieces of the puzzle. "I want to interview the families of the victims, Caroline's first."

"It's six thirty, Boyd. Tomorrow morning would be better."

He glanced at his watch and back at her. "In other words you want me to send them home." Their relationship had developed over the eight years they had been working together to the point where he could almost predict what she would say and do.

"They do their best work on a good night's sleep," she offered, watching him closely, for once guarding her words.

"Is that a gentle dig?"

"You finished my cross word, not to mention the coffee," she replied dryly.

He looked away and retorted, "Don't worry I'll be staying at my place until this is over."

She sighed audibly, wondering as she so frequently did how he could be so obtuse. Accustomed as she was to living alone the sound of footsteps on the landing and soft light drifting under the door frame awoke her. Not wanting to antagonise him she hadn't mentioned it until now. A part of her hoped he would tell her what was bothering him, instead he had gone on the defensive. "That's not what I was. . ." It was not what she wanted.

Boyd rose to his feet, walking past her and opening the door. "Against my better judgment you can go home. Be here early." He left the door ajar as he made his way back to his desk. "You should go too."

Grace hesitated before she made her way towards the door. When he was like this, in one of his moods there was no getting through to him, common sense told her to leave him to deal with it, or not as so was often the case. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Night, Grace." He waited for her to close the door behind her before he let out a deep breath. At times they fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw, made to be together, but other times they seemed to rub each other up the wrong way, discourse the first outlet for their emotions. Even so he could never let her go without using her name, without connecting to her. Finally he made himself comfortable behind his desk and opened the first file, preparing himself for a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

This is probably going to be a long one as I already have pages jotted down and a conclusion idea that's full of angst. Thank you for all the reviews. Apologies for not replying to everyone but real life really does get in the way of writing.

Enjoy

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I'm not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

**Part two**

"Coffee?" Stella asked, as Grace entered the office Tuesday morning, humming to herself.

"Thanks." Shrugging out of her pink checked coat, she draped it on the coat stand and dropped her oversized bag on the sofa. "Have you got the victim files I can borrow for a few hours?" There had been something productive about spending an evening alone, vacuuming and polishing while enjoying a glass of red wine. She had even begun to sketch out a profile in her head of the man who had murdered three young women, now she needed to understand the victims.

Stella shook her head before realizing that Grace couldn't see her. "Boyd had them in his office last night." She poured the freshly dripped coffee into a mug and walked towards the psychologist's office and handing her the mug. "You two fighting again?"

Grace raised her eyebrows in question. They were always so careful not to let their private relationship affect their working one, even to the point of keeping their arguments to a low roar whenever possible. It didn't mean they spent less time together, in fact if anything Boyd spent more time on her couch debating ideas but they never inflicted their feelings on anyone else.

"He finished the board."

Grace followed the younger woman into the outer office and stood before the case board. His scrawl covered what had been clear glass the previous night, his thoughts and ideas displayed for the team to follow. "My, he has been busy."

Stella stood behind her, sighing. "This is gonna be a long one, isn't it?"

The doctor gave her a small smile and turned to pat her shoulder. "When aren't they? If anyone needs me, I'll be with Eve." With a second wry smile Grace headed down the corridor towards the lab.

Grace snapped on a white coat and entered the lab, her thoughts a fusion of Boyd and the case, neither providing concrete answers. The three bodies or what remained of them lay side by side on three tables. Reverently, she walked between them, looking at each in turn, her eyes searching for anything that the forensic pathologist might have missed. She knew there would be nothing. She wasn't sure if it was easier or harder when all that remained was bones, especially when they had been young women with their lives in front of them.

"It's impossible to tell them apart." Eve had watched the older doctor from across the room, unwilling to infringe her thought process.

Grace jumped slightly at the knowledge she wasn't alone but then Eve had a way of blending into the background. "He clearly has a type. Tall, slender and brunette." That much she knew from their photos, and the fact they had left behind families who missed them. Her thoughts drifted to her own kids, wondering if they would even notice if she disappeared.

"And in their late thirties," Eve added unnecessarily, watching the pain fleeting cross grace's face. The details were all on the board upstairs. The women could pass for sisters, the only discerning feature their occupations.

"You have to wonder. . . I mean there's never a spate of women serial killers. How come we can deal with pure old fashion lust," Grace mused, making her way back across the room to join Eve.

Eve allowed herself a small grin. "How do you deal with pure old fashion lust?"

"I was talking theoretically," Grace said, ignoring the insinuation behind the question. She couldn't think about lust without remembering Boyd in the shower the first morning and the way he looked as the water splashed against his upper torso. It had been the first reminder that he was her toy boy and had taken a while to get over.

Eve didn't look convinced. There had been a change in Grace over the last few months and it was a positive one. She practically glowed some mornings and carried a flirty sexy air about her that made even Stella a little jealous.

"Getting back to the cases. . . "

"Yes?"

"Did you find anything at the farm?" Grace asked, perching on a stool, and looking at the computer screen and the enhanced photos of the women's remains.

It had been a long night for Eve. With the assistance of a torch she had moved around her laboratory of bodies, searching for anything that would help her with the three women across the room. It had been after four when she'd fallen into bed and she had woken again at six, a cigarette and a pot of coffee getting her going for the day. She shook her head. "Nothing I hadn't already suspected. The bodies were probably dumped soon after death and I'm convinced they were strangled."

"Sharing evidence without me," Boyd boomed, walking in the lab, doing up his white coat as he walked.

"Theories, Boyd."

"Not you too."

Eve gave him a wry smile. "Without being there and without a confession I can only go on what I have and what I have is three women with crushed hyoid bones."

He nodded, his face masking his emotions. "Can you explain the force needed to do that?"

"I can show you."

Grace toyed with her poppers. "I have some things to do. I'll catch up with you later," she said, excusing herself.

Stella knocked lightly on Grace's door and stuck her head around the open frame. "Sorry to interrupt. Caroline Hedges sister is here."

"Does Boyd know?" Grace asked, rising to her feet and beginning to rearrange her furniture. Her office had always slightly resembled a psychiatrists office with the couch just long enough to lay down on and the array of psychology books on the shelves. Whenever it became an interview room she moved the chairs and piled cushions on the sofa to make it more homely.

"He said for you to get started and he'd join you," Stella shrugged. "Shall I show her in?"

Grace nodded as she turned the kettle on and dropped a teabag into each of her mugs. Satisfied that she was prepared she grabbed a notebook off the table and placed it on the table.

"Grace," Stella announced. "This is Laura Montgomery."

"Grace Foley." She held out her hand and waited for the petite brunette woman to take it. The differences between the sisters were striking, Laura nearly a foot shorter and carrying more weight than her late sister. "Please take a seat. Can we get you tea or coffee?"

Laura settled herself on the far corner of the sofa and pulled a cushion closer. "Tea would be fine."

Stella smiled and excused herself, closing the door behind her. She hated interviewing the families, dragging up all sorts of memories that they had hidden or cherished. She knew what it was like to lose someone close and want answers. She also knew what it was like to get the answers.

"DSI Boyd will be joining us shortly," Grace explained, pouring hot water into the mugs. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I keep hoping it's not true. Caroline disappeared twenty years a go and every day I imagined she was out there living the dream."

"What was her dream?"

Laura smiled, the tragic news momentarily replaced with a happier memory. "She had this idea about living free and cheap. I can't remember if it was in a book or a TV programme but she talked about going to Israel and living on a Kibbutz."

Boyd watched from his window as Grace settled herself on the sofa beside the woman and leaned back against the soft fabric. He could tell from her body language that she was endeavouring to build a rapport and was trying to open herself up. He waited a few more minutes before rising to his feet and making his way across the room. Knocking lightly, he entered.

"Laura, this is DSI Boyd. Boyd, this is Laura Montgomery."

He nodded in her direction and sat in the chair behind Grace's desk, effectively distancing himself from the questioning, observing everything but trusting in Grace to give him an opening.

"It nearly killed my father when Caroline went missing. The spark went out of his eyes and he kept saying that you shouldn't outlive your children."

There was a momentary lapse into silence before Grace asked quietly. "When was the last time you saw your sister?"

"17th July, 1988," she replied without hesitation. "We were celebrating my sixteenth Birthday. Caroline was seventeen when I was born, kind of an after thought on my parents part."

Grace waited for her to continue, knowing she needed to talk.

"Mum and Dad took us out for dinner, along with two of my friends. We ate pizza, drank wine and binged on ice cream. I think she got a little bored, asked if I minded if she ditched me and went to meet friends. The last time I saw her she was singing to herself and walking out that door. I wonder if I'd said no and asked her to stay . . ."

"You had no control over what happened," she said softly, knowing that it was hard to ignore the irresistible urge to take the blame. "What was Caroline wearing?"

Laura pursed her lips as her mind returned to that night. "A red dress, see through because she liked that sort of thing."

Grace leaned forward resting her hands on her knees. "How close were you and Caroline?"

"As close as two people can be when they're a generation apart. She always made time for me and told me about her boyfriends but we didn't hang out," Laura explained. "She'd broken up with someone six eight weeks before."

"Was it an amicable break up?" Boyd asked, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Laura nodded. "He went back to his ex-girlfriend, or wife or something. Caroline wasn't ready to settle down," she replied focusing her attention on Boyd as she talked about a sister she loved. "She preferred to hang out with friends."

He looked slightly uncomfortable as he glanced between the two women. "Was she sleeping with anyone?"

Grace was about to interject when Laura said softly, "I don't know. She might have been. You think Tony or someone she was seeing did it?"

"We don't know. But we need to consider the possibilities." Boyd took a deep breath. "Tony . . ."

"Harper, Hargreaves. He worked at the local chemist."

Boyd glanced at Grace and they shared the same thought. Someone with access to drugs could have easily subdued three young women.

"Would a DNA test help?" Laura asked, focusing on Boyd with the intensity of a sixteen year old who had lost her adolescence.

He looked flustered. "The ID has been confirmed that's why you're here."

"But my DNA might help. . ." It was important if only to answer the questions she had internalised for nearly twenty years.

Grace leaned forward until her elbows rested on her knees. "Would it help you, Laura? You want to know if she was your mother?"

Laura turned, slightly surprised. "Am I that transparent?"

"It occurred to me too." Grace rose to her feet. "Thank you for coming, Laura. You've helped a lot."

"If there's anything else, please call me. And when I can bury my sister . . ."

Grace nodded, reaching out to lightly squeeze the younger woman's hand. "I will. I'll speak to our doctor and organize the test, then if you still want to . . ."

"I do."

Grace stepped out into the outer office. "Stella, could you show Mrs Montgomery out for me."

The brunette looked momentarily overwhelmed as she threw the pillow aside and stood. "Thank you, Grace. And you, Superintendent."

Once Stella had led the woman away, Boyd rose to his feet. "It doesn't really tell us much except maybe we should talk to the boyfriend." He waited for Grace to respond. "Grace?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking. How difficult would it be to track down a rape report from 1971?"

He looked confused. "I don't understand."

"Probably October or November, 1971." Grace moved back behind her desk, her brain processing a whole new theory. "I need to think about this."

Still confused and knowing he wasn't going to be enlightened any time soon he moved towards the door. "I'll get Stella on it." With no response he shrugged and walked out into the bullpen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I'm not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

**Part three**

Grace took a sip of cold tea and searched her desk for the file she'd had a few minutes before. The vivid swirling screen saver on her computer reminded her that she hadn't typed anything in nearly an hour and if Boyd's pacing up and down the bullpen was anything to go by he was getting impatient for answers. All of which did little to aid her thought process. Lifting up files and moving books she finally caught sight of the manila file on the floor. Picking it up, she removed the single handwritten sheet and reread Stella's notes. There was little to go on but it confirmed many of her suspicions and at least gave her a starting point for the team to work from.

Stretching, Grace rose to her feet then leaning down, rummaged in her bottom drawer for a treat for Stella before heading out into the bullpen.

"About time," Boyd mumbled, beginning another circuit of the room.

She gave him a look meant to subdue or imply death was imminent, he wasn't entirely sure which, but he had the sense to shut up and look mildly contrite.

"Stella!"

The young woman turned around, deftly catching the chocolate bar. "Thanks."

"I thought you might need it after yesterday." She turned back to look at Boyd. "I have a theory."

"With facts?" Boyd asked sceptically, momentarily halting his pacing.

Grace pulled a face.

"Okay."

"Caroline was the first to go missing even though we've only just recovered her body. I think he tried to rape her." Grace paused, letting the idea sink in. "And I think she fought back and he killed her."

Boyd looked towards Eve, an eyebrow raised.

"It's possible. Defensive injuries to tissue would have decomposed without a trace. And without clothing I can't tell you whether there was a rape, attempted or otherwise."

He turned back to Grace. "Ok, go on."

"Caroline was raped November 27th 1971. Her mother made her report the incident but it wasn't a time of enlightened policemen. They asked the right questions but got nowhere."

"The extent of the file is a two page report in the archives," Stella explained. "It took me most of yesterday to find it. The officer that took the statement is dead."

Grace took a deep breath. "She'd been raped before and I doubt a day had gone by when she hadn't thought about it. Laura was her reminder of that, but she was adjusted enough to love her. Some guy jumps out at her or comes on a little strong she would have regressed to that night. No way would she have let it happen again."

"Did she know him?" Boyd asked, his doubts set aside as he listened to Grace.

"If she did, I'm not sure it was intimately. Once she was dead he buried her, probably nearby. She was his first, his inspiration. I doubt he knew much about comfort zones but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have known how to transport a body. Three weeks later he killed Sally, two weeks after that Marie. It probably got easier."

He looked at her as if she'd grown horns.

"It's a theory Boyd. It goes someway to explain Caroline's murder and the escalation. She may have been the trigger point."

"Then what? He just stops?"

Spencer took the brief lull in debate to raise his own salient point. "He might have been arrested for something else. Or was taken ill. Moved on." Stella gave him a nod in agreement.

Grace threw her hands up in small surrender, frustrated that Boyd wanted more than she could give, which if she could allow herself a few minutes she would have realised was ironic considering how she felt about their relationship. "We don't know what he did."

"Let me hazard a guess, you want someone to troll through attempted rapes that match the profile," Boyd snorted, arms folded across his chest.

"And rapes, and assaults," she said with a smile.

Stella hit half a dozen keys on her computer. "Do you want me to limit the search to after 1988?"

Grace turned in her seat, ignoring the bemused look on Boyd's face. "For now, yes."

There were times when he felt his team were no longer his team, his authority subservient to Grace's. "Anything else, Ma'am?"

She pretended to think about it. "A bottle of Romanee Conti."

He shook his head. "I'll just pop down to the off licence and grab one."

Stella glanced up at Spence and grinned. He rolled his eyes as he always did whenever she raised her suspicions about their boss and the doctor.

"You got a spare five and a half thousand pounds, I don't know about?" Rising to her feet she walked past him, grinning, and headed into her office.

Spencer rose to his feet too, making a scene of going to the filing cabinet. "She's a woman with expensive tastes, Boss."

He grumbled something inaudible then added, "Haven't you got work to do?" He turned towards his office. "I'm going out for a bit."

"Don't even say it," Spence warned before Stella could even open her mouth.

"Why, because you know I'm right?" she teased.

"No, because I don't need to be loaded up with the images."

--

"I know it's not thousand pound a glass wine but I brought you lunch," Boyd announced, appearing in Grace's doorway half an hour later.

Grace glanced up from the disaster area that was her desk, failing to mask her surprise. "Thanks."

"I went to the place around the corner." He was very proud of himself. It wasn't often he managed to do something nice for the team without prompting from Grace. "Chicken or cheese?"

"Chicken, please." She took the brown paper wrapped sandwich and watched as he turned to leave. "You aren't going to stay and eat?"

He shrugged. "I was going to eat in my office."

Grace moved from behind her desk and patted the couch beside her. "Sit."

"So now I'm your obedient puppy."

"Only in the confines of my bed . . .," she trailed off as Stella hovered in the doorway. "Hi."

Stella gave her a hesitant smile. "Just wondered if you wanted coffee with lunch. I'm making a fresh pot."

"Great. Thanks, Stella." She turned to face him as Stella quickly left. "You brought everyone lunch?"

Boyd nodded, a small smirk forming on his face. He unwrapped his sandwich, waiting for Grace to say something. "So?"

"I don't like eating alone."

"So this isn't one of your little heart to hearts?"

"I'm usually a little more direct," Grace admitted, hoping to lull him into a false sense of security.

Boyd nodded. "Okay."

"But while you're here. . ."

He groaned audibly, knowing that he was in for a lecture on something.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I'm not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

_**Part four**_

Lunch was a distant memory, tea had been another round of fresh coffee that Stella had delivered on what seemed to be the never ending circuit between her desk and the printer. The office had been eerily quiet all afternoon, the only sounds coming from the constant whir of the printer and the photocopier as Stella produced a catalogue of reports for Grace. Spencer's task had taken him out of the office for most of the afternoon but he had returned a short while before looking almost as tired as Boyd felt.

Eve for her part had been sequestered in the lab making yet another attempt to garner something from the bodies while Grace had been crawling around on her office floor, a giant map stretched out in front of her. Boyd hadn't asked why for fear she might actually explain, and he wasn't sure he could handle the look of understanding she gave him when he couldn't keep up.

It had been a long day and they were all tired but no-one seemed to have any inclination to leave. Instead the team were gathered in the bullpen, the three woman surrounding the young DI.

Boyd leaned back in his chair, arms casually folded across his chest, his door wide open as he watched them. Despite everything they went through on a daily basis, the tragedy they saw, the horrors they dealt with, the psychopaths, the hours and him, or maybe because of it, they seemed to actually enjoy each other. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on except for a few all too brief moments they were having fun and by the way they were circling him, probably at Spencer's expense. Their voices drifted through the almost empty office and he briefly considered joining them.

"So I was wondering . . . Actually I'm a little hurt, Spence," Grace began, perching herself on the desk to the right of him and feigning hurt.

"What did I do?" he asked, concern that he might have genuinely done something wrong, knitting his brow as his deep dark eyes looked up at her.

"It's more what you didn't do." She stared down at her shoes, her hands twisting in her lap. "You didn't ask me out."

His jaw dropped and his eyebrows met in the centre of his frown. "Huh?"

Eve rolled her eyes and positioned herself to his left. "I think she's feeling a little left out, Spence."

"Er?" His eyes darted to Boyd's office, wishing for once that he would yell his name.

Stella sighed deeply, struggling to confine her giggles. "Every woman wants to feel adored, Spence. And the chances are that she would have turned you down, n'est pas. But even so, you asked Eve to a club and me to dinner. . ."

"I explained about that," he groaned, cursing his dry spell and the fact there were practically no secrets in the Cold Case Team.

"But to not ask Grace. . ." She shook her head dramatically.

"Is bad form," Eve offered with a small smile.

"When I try so hard to look good for you," Grace said softly.

"Idiotic," Stella finished, never one to worry about upsetting anyone.

Spencer Jordan knew when he was getting played, he also knew when he had already lost. The problem was he had been an idiot and broken the cardinal rule of office etiquette so he had to take his punishment like a man. His eyes drifted again to his boss' office. "Boyd would string me up."

"Really?" Stella asked, her face masking her amusement.

"Is it a little something you two do?" Eve asked, leaning in intently. "Foreplay or something?"

Spencer pulled a face at the notion.

"Not him as well," Grace groaned, rising to her feet and turning away with a smile.

"What can I say, ladies, he has good taste." He glanced at Grace, Stella's insinuations springing into his mind.

Grace faltered, wondering as she frequently did if everyone knew. She dismissed it as quickly, knowing that it was ridiculous when they had been so careful.

"Something I'm missing," Boyd asked, his eyes darting to Grace as he leaned against his doorframe, bemusement crossing his features.

"I was just coming to see you," Stella said, practically jumping.

"Really? Seemed like you were giving Spence his daily ribbing."

Grace winked as she passed him. "From what I've heard that's your job."

Confusion etched his face.

"Don't worry, Boyd, he can handle himself."

Boyd watched her enter her office, his eyes drawn to the soft curves of her body as she leaned over the desk. Part of him hoped she was doing it for his benefit, giving him an opportunity to map the body he was so desperately missing. Most of him knew she was oblivious to how sexy she was, to the effect of the combination of beauty, intelligence and confidence on him.

"Boss, "Stella called, breaking into his reverie. "I finally have the list Grace wanted."

"So give it to Grace," he replied, annoyance lacing his tone.

Stella bit her tongue. "I did. I thought you might want a copy."

He rolled his eyes and plucked the carefully stapled pages from her hands. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Tossing it on his desk, he turned around and walked back out into the bullpen. "Spence, how are you getting on tracking the boyfriend?"

"It's an ongoing process, Boss."

"Much like life."

"Well I don't have much to go on. Tony Harvey or Hargreaves. Worked in a pharmacy in the late 1980s."

The combination of a long day and lack of progression in the case was not enhancing Boyd's mood any. "Well I'm sorry I can't give you name, address and shoe size."

"I didn't say I couldn't do it," he retorted with a smile. "I just said it was ongoing. There's nothing like a little challenge."

"And there are enough of those around here," Stella bemoaned.

Boyd allowed his lips to quirk up into a grin. "Not getting cynical on us, are you Stella?"

"If you can't beat them, I thought I might as well join the rest of you," she grinned, hitting print on her keyboard and waiting for the printer to start up.

"What about the profile, Grace?" he called, his tone softening.

"What about it?" she replied, appearing at her doorway, her deep claret cardigan wrapped tightly around her. "Is it me? Or is it cold in here?"

"They turn the heating off at six thirty," Spence offered helpfully.

Eve turned from the coffee machine, clasping her mug. "Hate to say it, but it's supposed to snow tonight, so much for April showers. I'll be in the lab. It's thermostat controlled."

"Grace!" Boyd said, his voice insistent.

"Boyd!"

"Do you have to be deliberately obtuse?"

"It's worked for you for years," she snapped back, making her way back into her office.

"Now where are you going?" he snapped in reply, set to follow her.

"To dig out a menu. It doesn't look like we're heading home any time soon and I'm hungry. Stella? Spence?"

They glanced at their boss tentatively and back to Grace. "Sure."

"Would you like me to order you some food?" Grace asked calmly. "Or are you planning on starving yourself?"

"Fine." He threw his hands up in frustration.

"Then Stella and I are going to work on RATS."

Boyd groaned audibly.

"I wasn't asking you to help."

"And for that I'll be eternally grateful."


	5. Chapter 5

Just wanted to say a general thank you for all the positive feedback. I hope you like where this ends up. I was hoping to go for more drama but Boyd and Grace bring out angst and romance. g

A couple of minor things. This was part of a longer chapter but I've cut it in two so this is really setting up the later part. And I know nothing about the weather in the nineties and couldn't find any statistics so that might be au.

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I****'****m not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

**part five**

The snow had started falling as Grace had driven home late the previous night. The landscape was now a blanket of white, a fine mist covering her windows, the white flurries still falling burying her car. It barely started on good days, the chances of it starting when the temperature was below zero were non existent. Grace stood at the window, her deep red dressing gown wrapped tightly around her as she stared out at the grey sky. As she nursed a cup of tea she debating the relative merits of spending the day in bed with a good book. The idea of driving on the slush covered roads held little appeal and traipsing after Boyd as he interviewed potential witnesses and became more frustrated made her long for flu.

The ringing of the phone broke into her reverie and her sock clad feet padded towards the kitchen in search of the phone. She picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Do you want a lift?" an instantly recognizable voice asked.

"Boyd?"

"Yeah." He paused momentarily. "I can pick you up on the way."

She pondered saying no but the snow was starting to fall harder and she didn't really fancy battling with her car. "Thanks." She waited for him to say something, to even ask if she was ok, but he said nothing. "How long have I got?"

"Half an hour, ok? Give you enough time to slap on the war paint?" He asked, sipping his coffee and staring out of the window towards the city. All he could see was grey and the stream of snow as it fell. It suited his mood. There was so much more he wanted to say to Grace, but he seemed to have lost the ability. The phone was so impersonal and yet even when they were in the same room they kept within the safe confines of work.

"I'll see you then," she said quietly, placing the empty cup into the sink and headed upstairs to get ready.

#

Boyd pulled up at the curb and debated whether to go to the door. Good sense stopped him. They weren't on a date, it was work and he was never sure what was the right thing to do. There seemed to be a fine line between the two of them and they walked it every day so starting the day on the wrong foot didn't seem all that appropriate. Of course it was part of the course. His mother was so fond of telling him that the things worth having were worth working for and he certainly had to work at his relationship with Grace. When she still hadn't appeared five minutes later he opened the door and stepped straight into a mound of snow. Boyd cursed loudly as he trudged up the path, the wet snow soaking through his trouser leg.

She opened the door as he reached it, her eyes drifting to his trouser leg. "You didn't need to come in."

"I didn't know if you'd seen me."

Grace smiled lightly. "It took me a little longer to find my trowel."

"It was worth the wait," he offered after a few seconds of trying to find the words.

"Thanks." Grace blushed slightly. Leaning in, she brushed her lips over his cheek and pulled back.

For once he was lost for words, her lingering perfume reminding him of what he was missing . "Am I forgiven?"

"For what?" she grinned, knowing he had no clue as to what was going on. Using her thumb pad she wiped the lip stick from his cheek. "Don't tell me, new trousers?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "These things always seem to happen to me."

She nodded, amused. "Do you want me to get the hairdryer?"

"No. We should get going."

"Okay." She removed her coat from the stand and he took it from her, helping her into it.

#

"Boss." Spence walked into Boyd's office and opened the file he was carrying. "The boyfriend."

"Yeah."

"Anthony Harper. He was a sales assistant in 1988 at his father's pharmacy. It changed hands in 1990. Dad died two years later and the son inherited the works."

"And?" Boyd asked, hands open palmed.

"He married in 1989. Lives in Chelsea."

"And?"

"He's currently overseas. Due back this evening."

"Damn. How are we getting on tracking down the park workers?" Boyd's frustration was starting to get the better at him. Days into the case and they still hadn't interviewed half the potential witnesses.

"Two are dead, one's living in Leeds, one's at her majesty's pleasure. . ."

Boyd sat up straighter. "What for?"

"Robbed a pharmacy of 200 diazepam," Spencer continued. "Stella is checking him out."

"I thought she was working on RATS."

"Apparently it has something to do with superior brain power and the art of multi-tasking. I think they're almost done."

"Are they?" Boyd asked, glancing towards Grace's office.

"Do you two actually talk?"

Boyd gave him a filthy look.

"Of course that's why you have us minions. I'll go and hurry Stella up."

"Like to see you try." He rose to his feet and casually wandered into Grace's office. "Rumour has it you're getting somewhere."

Grace looked up from her position on the floor. "Well I don't think he stopped in 1988. Stella and I have linked another five."

"Murders?"

"Assaults, rapes, all within two kilometres of the spot Caroline was found."

"And you think they're linked?" He lowered himself to the ground, removing his glasses from his pocket and gazing down at the map, his fingers running over the red circles. "What about these ones further out."

"Out of the comfort zone. . .And, no, I'm not selecting evidence that fits the theory. The time frame is off too." She pointed to the five coloured in circles. "Two in 1989, one 1990, two 1991. The two summers after that weren't that great. Heavier than usual rainfall."

"What about later?" Boyd asked, his eyes meeting hers.

"Stella restricted herself to five years and came up with over a thousand incidents." She held her hands up in surrender. "Narrowing those down was hard enough. But we can go another five years if you want."

He shook his head. "I think she has enough to do. You want to interview the five?"

"I thought Stella and I could go tomorrow," Grace said with a smile, her eyes never leaving his. "You and Spence going to visit the boyfriend?"

"I'll be on my best behaviour."

Grace leaned forward, fighting the urge to touch his arm. He looked tired and she could tell my the colour of his shirt that he was unhappy, the white draining him of colour.

"Need a hand?" he asked, pulling himself up on the chair and offering her his hand.

She took it willingly, her body falling against his as she struggled to stand. The scent of his cologne was subtle and brought forth a flurry of memories as she pressed her hand against his chest.

Boyd allowed his thumb to lightly stroke the back of her hand as he waited for her to regain her balance. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She stepped back, missing his warmth almost instantly. "I should have a profile for you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I figured you would want to meet the victims first." Boyd took a step towards the door, suddenly needing to put space between them. It was always easier when they had something to argue about. When they were alone in the office, all manner of conflicts arose in him, intimacy providing him with little to hide behind. "Doesn't mean I won't start pestering you tomorrow."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she offered with a grin, lightly patting his arm as he left.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry about the delays in posting but I've had the most stressful week. The type where being broke would be preferable to working.

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I****'****m not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

part six

"It's still snowing," Grace announced, leaning against his door frame, her coat buttoned to her collar, her oversized brown leather tote slung over her shoulder.

He glanced up from his computer and rubbed his hand across his face. "What time is it?"

"Six."

Boyd couldn't help but smile as he took in her appearance. "Does this mean you're ready to go home?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "It is time to go home. Civilised people. . ."

"If you know any. . ." he countered.

"Last night was a late one and tomorrow is going to be another, although I don't know when they aren't. I just need . . ."

"Okay, I wasn't arguing."

Grace bit back the retort that tickled the tip of her tongue, as she continued to stare at him, an internal battle raging in her mind.

"What no comeback? No, that makes a nice change."

"I want to see you," she whispered, her eyes drifting to a point over his head, avoiding the deep pools of his eyes. She hated the weakness, hated to admit how deep her feelings ran but more than that she hated to be that needy woman he couldn't appease.

Boyd wanted, maybe even needed, to see her too but the case was a long way from conclusion and he couldn't be what she needed when he had so much to focus on, too much to distract him from giving her his undivided attention. "You will, soon enough." He had meant it to come across as tender, instead it sounded dismissive, and again his failure to communicate aggrieved him.

Grace nodded mutely, her acceptance so typical of someone who didn't believe she deserved better. It was predictable that he would work rather than spend time with her, always a case rather than a brief moment of happiness. It was something she took for granted, she didn't like it but to love Boyd, and she did more than she was willing to admit even to him, she had to accept him for what he was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Get Spence to give you a ride," he offered as if an after thought, not wanting her to know how many seconds he had been sitting there calculating the safest way for her to get home.

"You're letting them out early?" she teased as lightly as she could manage.

"Grace," he warned. "Go home."

"Goodnight, Boyd."

"Night, Grace."

She slipped out of his office and crossed to the outer office where Spence and Stella were still working. Ten minutes later she was sat in the front seat of Spencer's car with the heating turned up high, Stella almost asleep in the back as Spencer inched his way through traffic congested streets, snow falling almost like a blanket.

--

Boyd switched off his computer and sighed. He had been practically staring at the screen for the last hour, getting nowhere. Thoughts of Grace kept drifting through his mind and he hated how distracted she made him. In reality he needed her because she made him feel something he hadn't in a long time, maybe never. When they didn't get time alone he allowed his emotions to get the better of him, realisation that one day she would leave him leaving him almost breathless. There was really no chance of him getting any work done when images of her tucked up in bed invaded his mind, and he longed to be there holding her, but it was getting late. Pushing his reservations to the back of his mind, he picked up his phone and dialled her number.

"Grace Foley," she said, her tone that of someone expecting the worst.

"Were you sleeping?"

"No. Where are you?" She knew damn well where he would be, but part of her wanted to know if they had moved to a point where he didn't feel the need to lie.

Boyd hesitated, a wry smile coming to his lips. "In the office."

"Go home, Boyd. Get some sleep," she instructed, her smile diffusing down the phone line.

"I'd rather come there," he admitted softly, and almost fearfully.

Grace threw back the duvet and lowered her feet to the floor. "I'll put the kettle on but if you want food you can make it yourself."

By the time he arrived half an hour later she had dragged a brush through her hair and changed out of her nightgown and into her white silken pyjamas. When he knocked for the second time she opened the door. "Hi."

Peter stepped over the threshold and leaned in. The kiss was tentative, awkward even as he tried to judge whether she wanted him there.

She pulled back and gazed into his eyes. He looked tired, she decided, and definitely not in need of caffeine. "Coffee?"

Boyd closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Or have you been drinking the reheated French stuff all evening?"

He smiled and nodded like a child caught out.

"Seriously, Boyd, if it wasn't for me, would you ever eat a proper meal?" she bemoaned, bolting the door behind him. "If there was ever someone who needed a holiday, it was you. . ." Her words were lost as he tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging her towards him and kissing her firmly on the lips.

"I guess this means you aren't planning on getting a good night's sleep either," she muttered as he pulled back to gaze into her eyes, his fingertips gently massaging her scalp.

"Are you complaining?" he asked softly, his fingers moving from her hair to gently stroke her cheek.

"Maybe I'm feeling a little used," she replied quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

He pulled back further to look at her, his fingers stilling. "Really? Maybe I shouldn't have come."

There was something about his eyes, the way he looked at her in those moments they locked the world out and it was just the two of them, that made her feel like the only woman in the world. It was never that simple, and she was old enough to realize that she wasn't, but it didn't prevent her giving him what ever he wanted. "Let's go to bed."

"Are you sure?" he asked, never wanting to be one of _those_ men.

"Take me to bed, Peter," she repeated, her voice leaving him under no illusions as to what she wanted.

Taking her hand in his, he led her up the stairs. "You know, Grace, sometimes you say the wisest of things."

Of course, she acknowledged, there were also those times he was just a smug bastard, but for the moment he was her smug bastard.

--

Her pyjamas and his clothes lay scattered across the room, their need leaving little time for foreplay. His exploration of her body had been a little hurried, but not rough; his kisses just a little desperate but stimulating; the sex a little unfulfilling, but satisfying their needs. She definitely didn't regret a second of it. They had reached a point where sometimes sex was just sex and other times she came crashing back to reality after earth shattering climaxes. It had always been, and probably always would be, what followed that was more important for her; the way he held her rather than fall asleep or dash out the door, the feel of his breath against her ear as closed his eyes and relaxed. He liked to talk, his thoughts drifting from work to things that were important. Sometimes they even made plans for trips that they would probably never take but for that moment it was time that only they shared.

They lay side by side in bed listening to the sounds of her house, the tickling of the clock in the hallway, the creak of the water pipes and the cars on the street outside. It was a moment of relative silence in the midst of, what was on a daily basis, craziness.

Boyd has been talking about loss, his thoughts she knew, never far from Luke. She squeezed his arms more tightly around her. "What would be the worst of the worst for you?" Grace asked, her thoughts drifting, knowing that he had already experienced his ten.

Boyd didn't say anything for a few minutes. "To lose someone I love, again, I guess." He had often thought about it when cases became barely passable, emotions often getting the better of him when he imagined the sort of loss he saw every day. Now he knew what it was like, what victims families went through every day, he didn't believe he could ever experience that sort of pain again and survive.

His answer raised a plethora of questions, most she would never voice, the most important of which she knew she should have asked.

"And you?" he asked, wondering how close to honest she would be.

"Losing one of my children . . . Or you. . ." she trailed off.

Boyd pulled her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. "That's not going to happen."

--


	7. Chapter 7

**My muse seems to be taking a vacation right now, although maybe real life is impeding but I'll try and update as often as possible. Just let me know if I start losing the characterisation. The ending is done I just need to get from here to the ending. **

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I****'****m not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

**part seven**

The snow had finally stopped overnight, the early morning bringing with it cold rain and grey fog, the ground covered in a murky slush.

"Can I take a shower?" Boyd called down the stairs, the few hours of deep slumber leaving him feeling refreshed.

"Sure, just leave me some hot water." Grace walked down the hallway humming to herself. As unconventional as their relationship had began and however complicated it often became, moments like these reminded her that they were as normal as the next couple, as long as the next couple were a workaholic and a mother hen. She riffled around in her bag for her mobile, finding locating it in the depths of all her rubbish. "Hey, Stella, it's me," she said, when it was finally answered. "Can you pick me up in about half an hour. . . No, my car's fine. It needs a wash but. . . I thought we could head straight out. . . Thanks." She made her way upstairs, a mug of coffee in each hand. "You'd better get a move on. Stella will be here in twenty minutes."

"What? So now you have your wicked way with me and just toss me out."

"I love how you rewrite history. Anyway, I made you coffee," she retorted, wandering into the bathroom and pulling back the curtain.

"Hey," he grumbled, turning in an effort to maintain his modesty.

"I've seen it all before Peter, many times now," she teased, lightly slapping his backside. "Move over."

"Grace!" Boyd tried to close the shower curtain but her hand stopped him.

"I don't have time." She dropped her robe to the floor and stepped into the bath tub, pushing him aside to step under the water. Leaning in, she allowed the water to cascade over her skin as she soaped every inch of it, ignoring his half-hearted protests. Five minutes later, she stepped back out, wrapping an oversized bath sheet around her. "You should get going."

Boyd turned off the water and reached for a towel. "I don't suppose I've got a clean shirt here anywhere?"

"Clean, yes. Ironed, no."

He groaned as he walked around the bedroom, picking up the previous days clothes and began to dress. "Some women love to do little things for their man."

She turned sharply to glare at him.

"Not that I don't love the things you do for me," he backtracked, briefly halting his dressing to cross the room and kiss her longingly on the mouth.

"Ten minutes, Boyd," she warned, adding an extra layer of clothing. "By the way there's a brand new shirt in the bottom drawer." She blew him a kiss and headed downstairs.

--

Since she had started working with the police, Grace had frequently given bad news to families, had interviewed violent suspects and counselled victims. None of it had come easily and all of it left her tired and troubled in a small way. The worst thing about her job was that she could connect with people, it was also one of her strengths, but it came at a price. One that she couldn't share without anyone, not even Boyd.

Stella had arrived ten minutes late, barely missing Boyd's hasty exit, and the two women had set off in silence, each contemplating what they were about to do. Of the five potential witnesses Stella had located, only one had moved out of the area, the other four had reluctantly agreed to be interviewed. It had proved to be a long morning, as Grace gently coaxed the women to talk about their experience, taking them back to memories they had tried hard to bury.

Watching Grace and her reassuring demeanour as she gently took them back to their nightmares, and guided them through made Stella doubt herself. She had been with the unit for three years and had learnt more in that time than she had ever thought possible, but she could never see herself measuring up to Grace. With each victim they visited and with every detail they recalled she found herself retreating into herself, becoming quieter.

There was little to be garnered from the victims except one small piece of information that had Stella reaching for her notepad. All four of them had used the same park Caroline's body had been discovered in and all four had used it for romantic encounters. It didn't matter that they had very little additional information because talking to each woman had convinced Grace that they had been attacked by the same man, and made her want justice for them.

"Do you think Boyd's right?" Stella asked as they stepped out into daylight, the sudden brightness almost blinding. "That we're looking for one of the groundskeepers."

"It's a possibility," Grace acknowledged hesitantly. Boyd had strode into her office the previous afternoon and announced that he was interviewing the ex boyfriend and the groundskeepers. He was stretching, she knew, but sometimes it was just easier to let him explore his instinct while the team followed the evidence. "But I still feel like we're missing something."

Stella nodded mutely, not really sure what she thought herself.

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, casting glances at the young redhead.

"Yeah."

"Really? You've been really quiet, I'm not used to it."

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that."

"That's a good thing." Grace waited for a response, when none came she wrapped her arm around her shoulders. "Why don't we get some lunch?"

"What about Boyd?"

"He can get his own. Look we need to eat and I don't fancy vacuum packed sandwiches." More than anything she thought Stella needed to talk and some reassurance. It seemed to be her role in the team to counsel the others, and it was one she knew was essential, except sometimes it was like having six kids instead of two. "We can at least get some soup or something."

Stella unlocked the car and they climbed in.

"You have to stop second guessing yourself," Grace said, softly, turning up the heating. "You're a good officer."

"I can't do anything right," she bemoaned, putting the car in drive.

Grace was about to argue, instead she said, "He sees a little too much of himself in you."

"Now I am worried."

"You shouldn't be." It was one of the things about Boyd that she loved - his ability to show his concern for the team, she just wished he could find better ways of expressing it. "He, and Spence and I are just here to make sure you don't make the same mistakes he did."

"He doesn't make things easy."

"No, but that's Boyd," Grace admitted freely. "I don't think he's ever done anything the easy way in his life."

"Why do you put up with him?" Stella asked, quietly, negotiating her way into the right lane.

"Because we need the other in our lives." It was simple as that, Grace concluded. She'd tried to walk away from him and the job but when it came down to it there was something that kept dragging her back. "Just like you and Spencer."

Stella didn't believe for a second she and Spencer were like them. She didn't feel the need to keep touching him for starters, a trait which Grace seemed to indulge in more when things in the office were getting tense. Spencer also didn't take her out for dinner or buy her wine when he'd upset her. Of course if he did Stella would have become an alcoholic or ended up naked in his apartment one too many times by now. The one thing that definitely differentiated her and Spencer was that they weren't in love with each other which was as clear to her as Boyd's car speeding from Grace's house had been that morning. "So how about the pub on the corner?" Stella asked, quelling the urge to ask Grace exactly what her relationship with Boyd was like.

"It's as good a place as any."

For what? Stella silently asked herself.


	8. Chapter 8

A bit like Grace my heart isn't in it. But there are great chapters to come so bare with me**.**

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I****'****m not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

part eight

Peter Boyd found it hard to make friends, even harder to hold on to them. It possibly had something to do with the fact he had slept with practically every female he had managed to get to like him. Arresting your friends also seemed to end the friendship fairly quickly. Grace was an exception, his best friend for all intent and purposes, and providing they could manage not to screw up their relationship, he thought she always would be. Then there was Spencer Jordan whom he genuinely liked, a mutual respect evolving from them saving each others lives, and who had a quality about him that made it easy to be friends whilst keeping their working relationship in tact. His driving on the other hand was something Boyd would never get used to.

Ever since Boyd had climbed into Spence's car he had been clinging to the arm rest for dear life, leaning into corners as he flew from side to side. The younger man always drove like he was responding to a scene, and Boyd had spent most of the journey contemplating his life choices.

Spencer finally parked outside the townhouse in Chelsea and Boyd breathed a sigh of relief.

"This is a little different from the flat over the pharmacy he used to live in," Spencer commented as he applied the brake and switched off the engine. The three storey building was in need of a little updating on the outside but the neighbourhood told the two officers that the Harper family had come a long way.

"Family money?" Boyd asked, opening the door and stepping out onto the pavement.

"Hers I guess. I'll get Stella to check it out."

Boyd shook his head. "You know you could stop delegating so much."

"It keeps her out of trouble," Spencer grinned. "On the subject of trouble, you're not going to do anything I'm going to have to explain to Grace, are you?"

Boyd gave him a strange look, one that he hoped would silence him.

"I'm just saying you have responsibilities and I don't. . ." he trailed off, avoiding his boss' steely gaze.

"Yeah, don't worry I'll be on my best behaviour." However many times he promised Grace he would behave himself she still didn't trust him. Most of the time he brushed it off, ignoring her worrying, but it did concern him that her opinion was oftentimes the only one that mattered.

Spence looked unconvinced. "Just remember it's never as easy as the boyfriend did it."

"Thanks for Criminology 101." Boyd knocked on the door and waited.

A slight man in his late fifties came to the door carrying a small boy. "Hi," he said timidly, standing in the open doorway.

Boyd drew his own conclusions, his eyes taking in everything, his instinct trying to tell him something. "DSI Boyd. This is DI Jordan. We're here to see Anthony Harper."

"That's my brother in law. Bear with me a second." He turned and took a step back inside the house. "Tony, the police are here to see you."

Another man appeared in the hallway, dressed in a cashmere sweater and cords. "Please come in. I just need to get the kids settled. Derek, can you . . ."

Derek stepped back and allowed them entry into the house. "Sure, if you'd like to wait in the sitting room." He led them down the corridor to a small room off it. "Can I ask what this is about?"

Spencer gave him a tight lipped smile, indicating that he could ask but there would be no answer.

Derek nodded and left them alone.

The small formal sitting room was set up to impress. Every piece of furniture was an antique, the mix match of woods making it seem even smaller in size. The photos that adorned the mantle piece were of the perfect family, taken in professional studios, the window dressings overkill for the small room. Everything indicated that the family had money and wanted everyone to know.

"Money," Spencer said dryly. "But no taste."

"I don't know. He was wearing a cashmere sweater." He didn't point out at Spencer's surprised expression that the only reason he knew that was because Grace had bought him one the previous Christmas.

"Sorry, about that," Anthony apologised, closing the door on the sounds of kids TV as they drifted down the corridor. "Kathryn had plans and I'm left watching the grandchildren. What is this about?" He neither looked worried or overly interested, more importantly he didn't look guilty.

"We're investigating the death of Caroline Hedges," Boyd offered flatly, studying his face, hoping for a reaction.

His face paled and he dropped into a chair. "She's dead." It came out as more of a statement than a question.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She has been for twenty years."

"God." Anthony didn't know what to say. It had been the last thing he had expected to hear.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Boyd asked, ignoring the emotions crossing his potential suspect's face.

Anthony's face contorted in consternation. "Um, June 1988. I think. We'd broken up in the March, agreed not to see each other."

"Whose idea was that?" Spencer asked as casually as he could.

"Mine."

"Why was that?" Boyd pressed.

"My parents didn't know about me seeing Caroline. They probably wouldn't have approved. They had their hearts set on me marrying Kathryn. We'd played together as kids and studied at college. The two families knew each other. I liked expensive clothes and books which working in a shop wouldn't pay for. I went along with them. It was an arranged marriage of sorts."

"You have this?"

"Yeah. My inheritance and Kathryn's money put down the down payment. My travel books pay the mortgage."

Boyd nodded coldly, his opinions of the man changing with each comment. "And in the June?"

"She was in the park just sitting on a bench." A warmth washed over his face as he thought about the woman he had once love. "I saw her and then she was running towards me and threw her arms around me. We talked for a few minutes before I had to get back to work, to dad's shop."

"Was she meeting someone?"

He frowned. "Her sister, I think." He got up and began to pace. "I never did think she had left to travel."

"Why?" Boyd asked, his synapses firing as he tried to analyse the man before him.

"She would never have gone without Laura. She adored her. Was always talking about her plans for university and stuff. If Caroline was going to run off she would have taken her dau. . .sister."

Boyd sat up straighter. "You knew?"

Anthony, nodded, embarrassed. "I loved Caroline, she loved me. The park was where we went when we needed to be alone, to talk, and. . .well you know. All she ever wanted was for us to get married and for Laura to come and live with us."

"Did she ever mention being followed or being hassled."

"Not that I know of. But then we hadn't seen each other for two, three months."

Boyd rose to his feet. "Thank you."

"If you want anything else. If I can be any help. Although I'm not sure I know anything."

"We will," Spencer assured him, suddenly aware of Derek hovering outside the door.

Anthony walked them to the door. Once they were alone, Spencer turned to his boss. "Something hinkey there."

"Hinkey?"

"Off."

"Ah. A Grace-ism."

"Yeah, don't you think? The brother in law is definitely off. Caroline is found buried in the park she did the deed in." He paused when he realised his boss was staring off into space. "I'll ask Grace to run a profile on both of them. See what she thinks."

Boyd raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Don't worry, Boss, I'll charm her. She likes me."

"Yeah, I just wouldn't push it. So what do you say? A swift half?"

"Are you buying?" Spencer asked with a mischievous grin.

"We can talk hinkey."

--

"There's one thing I don't understand," Stella began, as they walked through the office.

"Only one?" Grace asked, her tone laced with surprise.

"Well, many, but I'm human. My question is why didn't he kill them, why kill Caroline and the others?"

"I was beginning to think you had deserted me," Eve said, turning from the board.

"Boyd not back?"

"Spencer phoned. They're at the pub."

"Ah," Grace sighed. "Okay."

"Are you ok?" Eve asked, taking a good look at Grace.

Grace shook her head, her worries about Stella put to one side as she focused back on the case. "I'm not sure I can profile this guy."

The two women sat down and looked up at her, surprised at her admittance.

It happened sometimes, the pressure got to her or she trapped by it all and even with all the knowledge she couldn't make sense of it all. "Something's missing. Like you said, why Caroline? Why murder three then stop? Then there's the fact I don't think Caroline was random, but the others seem less focused."

Eve leaned forward in her seat. "Instinct?"

"Who knows?" Grace dropped into Spencer's empty chair, her back to the board. "Maybe if I profile it like three different cases. Maybe if I take another look at the groundskeepers." She threw her hands up in surrender.

"What about the ex?" Stella asked.

"I guess we'll see what Boyd thinks on that."

"Knowing Boyd, something like 'There's definitely something off,'" Stella said, mirroring her boss' tone.

The two women laughed gently, Grace's heart not really in it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season six to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: I'm not yet sure where is this is going to sit in terms of the time line or the present series. My intention is for it to follow on from Season seven so it may appear vague in earlier chapters**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

**Part nine**

Lunch had been a brief respite with conversation meandering back to the case and the ever-increasing number of suspects. Frustration had led to a second drink, which wasn't the best course of action when Boyd was in one of his moods, and had it not been for Spencer reminding him of the time certainly a third. They had reluctantly paid the bill and headed back to HQ.

Boyd walked purposefully into the bullpen, his eyes casting about. "Where's Grace?"

Stella pointed towards the Doctor's office and the drawn blinds.

"What's she doing? Taking a nap?" he snorted, oblivious to the fact he was yelling unnecessarily and stomping around the office.

"She has a migraine," Stella said quietly, looking at Spencer for some indication of what was going on. Her partner held up his hands, clearly as confused about their boss' demeanour as she was

"I don't have time for her to have a migraine." He opened the door to her office and shouted her name.

Having heard the ranting, and not feeling up to dealing with one of Boyd's moods, Grace took a deep breath before she rolled over. "Get out."

"I need you."

At any other time she would have been ecstatic but at the moment she was trying hard to control the tears that had been falling unabashed for the past ten minutes. "Get out, Boyd," she snapped.

He was about to raise his voice to her when he caught sight of the glistening tear on her cheek. Confused and surprised, he stood in silence, his deep dark penetrating eyes drawn to her face.

"Please, just give me a minute," she said quietly, turning away from him and burying her face in her hands.

Boyd retreated to the outer office, his path now firmly fixed towards Stella. "What the hell happened?"

She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted before she could stammer a reply.

"Grace is in there crying."

"I'm not sure she wanted us all to know that," Eve said, her voice calm and controlled as she watched Boyd run his fingers through his hair, glancing back at the darkened office in consternation. "I think she went in there purposefully so that we didn't."

Confusion once more crossed his features, Eve's words having the desired effect.

"I'm not sure what she'd call it but she's having a crisis of confidence."

"Grace doesn't . . ." He stopped himself because in truth he didn't really know what Grace did in the middle of cases. He was usually holed up in his office, sleeping on his couch and shouting orders like he was directing traffic to really notice how she dealt with things.

"Grace doesn't what?" Grace asked, appearing at his shoulder. "Stella, could you be a love and get me some tea."

The young red head nodded, happy to be doing something and out of Boyd's firing line.

Spencer pulled out a chair and waited for Grace to sit. It was evident even to him that she had been crying, but he didn't want to ask about it, instead he was more focused on distracting them all, giving her space to regain her composure. "So we interviewed the boyfriend."

"Then went to the pub," Eve said, a wry smile on her face.

"Yeah," Spence admitted, turning his attention towards the doctor. "Guess I'll be buying you all a drink when this is over to make up for it." He returned his attention to Grace. "So the boyfriend's pretty cut up. Turns out he knew about the daughter."

Grace sat up straighter, focusing her interest on Spencer. "She told him?"

"Yeah, apparently they were going to be one happy family."

"Wonder how that would have gone down with Caroline's father?" Grace mused. "Probably not too well after sixteen years." She looked at Stella.

"I'll run his name through the computer, see if anything pops up."

"And he saw her in the June," Spencer continued, suddenly consumed by the new information.

Boyd folded his arms across his chest, wondering how Spencer got away with it when she always expected so much more from him.

"I think you need to start at the beginning," Grace said, accepting the tea from Stella. "Thanks."

"Stella, can you see what you can find on the brother in law," Boyd interjected, trying to take charge of the case. "Derrick something."

She rolled her eyes and moved to the computer. "Spencer?"

"Collins, Derrick Collins. Late fifties."

"He's hinckey," Boyd said with a smile.

Grace returned the smile weakly. "Hinckey doesn't necessarily mean guilty, Boyd. We may need motive, means, and opportunity."

Spence turned to Boyd with a cheeky grin. "We might make a police officer out of her yet."

"Well, we're having little success with you," Stella piped up from the safe distance of the computer.

"Hey." He pretended to look hurt and Grace patted his shoulder gently.

"So does this mean the theory about the groundskeeper is out? That Harper or Collins are in?"

Spencer shrugged.

Boyd folded his arms across his chest. "We're not ruling anyone out. We're just identifying possibilities."

"What's your gut feeling telling you?" Grace asked, staring up at him.

"That I probably shouldn't have had the second half with dinner," he offered candidly. "Other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

--

Grace read through the files for a second time, jotting down comments on her legal pad. Groaning, she rose to her feet and moved to her bookcase, scanning the shelves for a particular text and returning to the desk.

"How's it going?" Boyd asked, hovering in the doorway, unsure of himself suddenly. As much as he wanted to sit on her couch and ask her questions, for once he held back waiting for her to come to him.

"Slowly," she replied, glancing up and adjusting her glasses. "Some things are becoming clearer, other things are a mystery."

A bit like relationships, he concluded silently. "Anything I can do to help?"

She gave him a surprised look, her lips quirking up into a genuine smile as her eyes twinkled.

He held his palms up. "Okay."

"No, I'm just . . . You offering to help. It's just well . . ."

He rolled his eyes, wishing he hadn't entered her office. "I'm going back to my office now, if you want to talk." It was an offer she frequently made to him, and one he rarely took her up on, except after Luke and that had somehow steered them to the relationship they now shared.

Grace watched him go, her heart heavy as she realise she was doing exactly the thing she so frequently accused him of - shutting him out. Although it would have been easy to tell him what was suffocating her, and she really did need to talk to someone about it, it was a bad idea. The last thing Boyd needed was someone else's worries, or to know that Grace was as fragile as the rest of them. Her lack of answers and the fact they were no closer to a resolution in the case, was already enough to send him over the edge.

Boyd paused at his door, glancing back over his shoulder to study her. The weak smile she gave him told him more than she had probably intended and he felt at a loss. Once again he couldn't give her what she needed but this time he wasn't even entirely sure what she needed.

Grace glanced down at her legal pad and rubbed her forehead, knowing that the day was closing in and she still didn't have the answers.


	10. Chapter 10

Just a little taster with more to come. I am now exam and essay free, yippee, so I can hopefully get this posted. There are definitely two more chapters almost finished.

**Part Ten**

An early morning had followed what had inevitably become a late night. Fresh coffee had been brewing since Stella had arrived, Danish pastries arriving a little later with Grace. The cold case team had regrouped over breakfast, theories and suspects banded about until Boyd had finally retreated to his office, Grace trailing in his wake.

Stella returned the phone to it's cradle and walked purposefully towards Boyd's office, pausing briefly to knock before entering anyway.

Boyd and Grace looked up simultaneously, each hopeful for a break in the case.

"Kathryn Harper is in reception demanding to see the Officer in charge," Stella said flatly.

Boyd glanced at Grace with a smirk. "You think she's here to shop her husband?"

"Let me talk to her," Grace suggested, leaning unconsciously towards him. "She might open up to me."

"You think I can't handle it?" he asked, practically jumping to his feet as he put his jacket on.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Why would I? I mean she's what, five foot eleven, long dark hair, and stunning. . ."

"You know I don't like them perfect," he offered with a smile, oblivious to the implication as he strode out into the reception.

She wasn't sure what to make of his passing comment, nor could she react with Stella watching her every move. Before she could retort he was back in the office his hand resting on the woman's back. "Mrs Harper, Kathryn, this is Dr Grace Foley."

The two women shook hands, the younger woman deliberately avoiding Grace's eyes.

"Can we get you anything?"

Kathryn shook her head as she seated herself at the conference table, crossing her long legs in such a way her skirt slid to reveal more bare skin.

"Thanks, Stella." Boyd ushered her out of the office. "So what can we do for you, Kathryn?"

Grace had always found it sweet that he insisted on using everyone's names, now in his office it irked her. Of course it annoyed her even more that his eyes drifted beneath the table.

"You came to see my husband. I wondered why?" she directed her attention to Boyd, practically blanking out Grace.

"What did your husband say?" Grace asked, her voice neutral as she tried to analyse the middle aged woman. So far she didn't like what she saw.

"My husband said it was in relation to the death of a friend of his." She continued to talk to Boyd, her voice soft and alto.

"Caroline Hedges."

Kathryn shook her head, her face revealing nothing. "I don't know her. My husband has never mentioned her."

"Maybe it was before he met you," Grace suggested gently.

"I don't think so. My husband and I have been together, well we've known each other since we were toddlers." She laughed nervously. "Our parents were trying to marry us off at five. It took a little longer." Her face turned serious as she turned briefly towards Grace, hardening momentarily before her smile was firmly fixed.

Boyd glanced at Grace and she nodded. "Anthony dated Caroline in 1988."

"I don't think so. We married the following year. I was pregnant with Rebecca," she explained, blushing slightly. "So you must have gotten him mixed up with someone else."

"Anthony confirmed it," Grace stated, her eyes carefully taking in every hand movement, every nervous smile, her eyes listening to every word.

Kathryn's controlled demeanour faltered for a second as she seemed to acknowledge that there were things about her husband she didn't know." Is he a suspect?"

"A witness."

"He knew the victim. May have information that he doesn't even know he has," Boyd explained, oblivious to the way the woman was leaning towards him, her attention firmly fixed on him. Even more oblivious to the effect it was having on his girlfriend.

"But you've spoken to him. So there's no need to talk to him again?" Kathryn said, intent on putting an end to the discussion.

Grace would have felt a little jealous if she didn't know exactly what was going on. Her own opinions were forming with each interaction, pieces of a puzzle falling into place. "We might."

Kathryn turned, her eyes narrowing. "Then possibly you might let me know so I can ensure my husband has some legal representation."

"Of course," Boyd said, with a smile. "Was there anything else?"

Kathryn turned back to Boyd, her smile widening as she rose to her feet and held her hand out to shake. "Thank you for your time." She turned briefly to Grace. "Dr Foley."

As Boyd guided her back to the reception area, Grace opened the door and walked back out into the bullpen. "Stella."

"Yeah?" the young redhead said, distracted as she waited for her research engine to find the record she needed

"Can you get me everything you can on Kathryn Harper?" Grace asked, leaning down to talk softly to the young woman. "And if there's a psyche report somewhere can you get that too."

"You really didn't like her," Stella offered with a smile, no longer distracted. She cleared the screen and brought up the police database.

"Let's just say she's textbook."

"GRACE!"

She turned with a sigh. "Yes, Boyd."

"Well?"

"What?" she asked, deliberately obtuse.

He threw his hands up in frustration. "You weren't sitting in for no reason."

"Do I think she's covering up for her husband?"

"Well, do you?" Boyd snapped eagerly.

"Maybe, maybe it's for someone else, or maybe she really did find you irresistible," Grace deadpanned, folding her arms across her body.

Spencer sniggered behind her.

"Well I'm finding you less than captivating right now," Boyd snorted, turning back towards his office.

"So maybe you can leave me alone to do my job."

"If only," he grumbled, retreating into his office with the slamming of the door.

Grace turned to her two young companions, her annoyance subsiding as she smiled. "That should buy me an hour's peace."


	11. Chapter 11

_This is the second part of what was originally one chapter, the third part to follow tomorrow. It got a bit long and Boyd and Grace just wouldn't shut up._

_**itTitle: The Day is Closing In**_

_**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**_

_**Rating: K+**_

_**Spoilers: Up to and including season seven to be on the safe side**_

_**Authors Notes: This follows on from Season seven, probably about six months later**_

_**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**_

_--_

_**Part Eleven**_

"_What__'__s Grace so excited about?__"__ Eve asked, walking into the bullpen and helping herself to her fourth cup of coffee of the day. _

"_The crisis is over,__"__ Spencer offered with a grin._

"_Does he know?__"__ Eve asked, indicating Boyd__'__s office and his now familiar stance in the corner of the room, head in his hands._

_Grace walked out of her office, papers clutched to her chest before pivoting and heading back inside._

"_Well the yelling hasn__'__t started,__"__ Stella interrupted. __"__So I guessing probably not. He__'__s not going to go for it.__"_

_Eve looked confused, glancing between her two colleagues._

"_We__'__re working on another theory. Or at least a plausible motive,__"__ Stella explained, shooting Spencer a dirty look. __"__Well some of us are.__"_

_He held his hands up in surrender. __"__I__'__m not discounting it.__"_

_Grace was at odds with herself, well more so than usual. She usually went straight to Boyd when she had an idea, even a small piece of information, but this time she was sure he would shout her down. She wasn__'__t sure what gave her that impression - it could be his shouting, the slamming of his office door or the fact he would never admit anyone else was right. The idea of having the rest of the team weigh in seemed to be more productive. All she had was a theory, a suspect pool and her instinct; not exactly a watertight case but they had worked with less. __"__Okay,__"__ she announced, finally making it as far as the board._

"_You ready for him?__"__ Spencer Jordan asked, his eyes shining mischievously. His social life had been pretty non existence of late and the idea of free dinner theatre was quite appealing._

"_As I__'__ll ever be.__"_

_Eve dropped down onto a free chair and stretched out her legs waiting for the entertainment to begin._

_Spencer picked up the phone and dialled his boss__'__ extension. Less than a minute later Boyd was striding into the office._

"_Well, what have we got?__"__ he asked, his tone more than a little accusatory._

_It was now or never, Grace decided, taking a deep breath. __"__I need you to hear me out.__"_

_He glared back, the vein in his temple throbbing. _

_For once she wasn__'__t about to be put off. __"__Please.__"_

_Boyd dropped sulkily into the nearest chair._

_The three other occupants in the room shared a brief smile before turning towards the board expectantly._

"_I__'__ve only been working on this for a few hours and it__'__s a little vague and bitty. but bear with me.__"_

_He sat in stony silence._

_Grace silently removed a photo from the file on the desk and stuck it on the wall._

_Boyd opened his mouth to speak but the look she gave him stopped him in his tracks. Every instinct in his body told him to fire questions at her, but his head told him in no uncertain terms she would never forgive him._

"_Kathryn Harper is a classic narcissist who believes that the world revolves around her. She__'__s selfish, egotistical and conceited. She__'__ll do anything to ensure she__'__s the centre of attention, including using her looks.__"_

"_What the hell did she say to piss you off? You concluded this from our little meeting?__"__ Boyd countered defensively. _

"_That,__"__ she began, ignoring the fact he wasn__'__t a million miles away from the truth. __"__and Stella__'__s very good at research. I think Kathryn is the reason Caroline was murdered and I want to bring her in.__"_

"_That__'__s it? She__'__s self-absorbed and guilty?__"__ he argued, disbelief lacing his tone._

_Stella glanced nervously at Spencer, identifying with Grace__'__s predicament, having found herself at the centre of his rage one too many times._

"_I think we may have a little attachment disorder,__"__ Grace said firmly, ignoring her Boss. __"__Kathryn and little Derrick were very close. It was before the days of Educational Psychologists. Instead he spent a lot of time with a psychiatrist after he showed a fascination in the girls changing rooms.__"_

"_No chance he was a healthy teenage boy?__"__ Boyd asked._

_Grace shook her head. __"__NO. The reports suggest an unhealthy obsession with his sister. Call me a little Freudian but he had a touch of the Oedipal complex.__"_

"_You__'__re saying he was in love with his sister?__"__ Spencer asked, his face contorting at the image. __"__Okay I said he was off, but that__'__s well. . .__"_

"_Not as unusual as you might think.__"__ Grace settled herself against the desk. __"__I think Kathryn may have used it to her advantage. She knew her husband-to-be was in love with someone else and she couldn__'__t deal with the idea he might walk out on her.__"_

"_Sounds a little generalised, even for you, Grace. Women have those feelings every day, they don__'__t orchestrate murder.__"_

_Grace shook her head with a wry smile. __"__You__'__d be surprised, Boyd, what women will do for love.__"_

_A chill set in the room, as they each considered what they had seen in their careers done in the cause of love._

"_A woman didn__'__t rape, and murder eight women, Grace,__"__ Spencer pointed out, shifting the focus of the room. _

"_That__'__s where the brother fits in.__"_

"_That__'__s stretching it a little far,__"__ Boyd concluded, his tone incredulous. __"__What happened to motive, means and opportunity? Not to mention where the other victims fit in.__"_

"_Motive. The oldest one in the book. Love and jealousy. Kathryn loved Anthony and couldn__'__t handle the thought of him leaving for someone else. It must have been torture all these years knowing she wasn__'__t his first choice, that she couldn__'__t manipulate him into loving her.__"_

"_He may have learned to love her,__"__ Spencer commented dryly._

"_You don__'__t want someone to learn to love you, Spence. You want to be their first, last and only choice,__"__ Grace said, a touch wistfully. __"__When they look at you, you have to see it in their eyes, see every emotion you__'__re feeling reflected back at you.__"_

_Spencer cleared his throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable._

"_What about opportunity?__"__ Boyd asked, his eyes firmly fixed on her. A part of him wondered if she was asking those things of him, knowing that he rarely showed her the depth of his emotion; for the most part he knew she was talking about her husband and the years of complete devotion they shared._

"_What if. . .?__"__ Her eyes locked with his and for a brief moment she forgot they were in a roomful of people, knowing as she did so that they needed to have the conversation they so adeptly avoided. __"__Kathryn saw them that day in the park. Maybe even followed him. She would have been angry, maybe a little embarrassed and angry.__"_

"_That__'__s a lot of what ifs and maybes.__"_

_She inwardly groaned. He was right but there was only so much she could explain, the rest was a spiral of inductive hypothetic-deductive reasoning. __"__Would you prefer I started with I don__'__t like her and I think she__'__s guilty?__"_

"_Well that__'__s logical,__"__ he grumbled sarcastically._

_Stella and Eve shared a knowing smile, reading more into the argument than what was actually being said. The professional line was frequently crossed in the office, emotions and the desire for justice blurring everything. On the odd occasion like today__'__s argument the line was left way behind._

"_So because it__'__s me and not logical, it__'__s wrong? But when it__'__s you, and completely illogical, like Steven Hunt or Martin Armstrong it__'__s okay?__"__ Grace snapped, folding her arms across her body._

"_I was right both times,__"__ he defended, rising to his feet. __"__You can__'__t just bring a woman in here and accuse her of instigating a murder.__"_

_Spencer opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. The argument was no longer about what the case entailed. Grace and Boyd had decided to dip into the last eight years and rehash every debate they had ever had. The possibility of drawing blood was a certainty._

"_I wasn__'__t planning on accusations, that__'__s not my style and you know it. Stella and I can ask her a few questions, maybe play a few hints, see how far she__'__ll go for her brother.__"_

"_Lie.__"_

"_Stretch the truth.__"_

"_No.__"_

"_No?__"__ she retorted._

"_You don__'__t have enough. It__'__s all your usual hocus pocus. A little Freud, a little speculation. Nothing concrete. I want more.__"_

_She shot him a look that she hoped the rest of the team missed because for once her anger was more than visible in her eyes._

"_Bring me evidence that backs up your theory and I__'__ll happily stick her in an interview room and question her,__"__ he said, his posture on the offensive._

"_Fine,__"__ Grace snapped, throwing her hands up in the air, a gesture of surrender it wasn__'__t, more an acknowledgement that she had had enough. __"__We__'__ll do it your way.__"_

"_Fine,__"__ he retorted, walking back into his office, the door vibrating on its frame._

_Stella looked at Spencer and back at Grace. __"__What do you want me to do?__"_

_Grace closed her eyes taking deep even breaths. __"__What do you three think?__"_

"_I tend to agree with the boss. I don__'__t really think this is the work of a woman,__"__ Spencer offered, shrugging. __"__Sorry, Grace. We__'__re talking three woman, eight if we follow your own theory. How does Kathryn__'__s jealousy end in, . . . well . . .__"_

"_You__'__re oversimplifying the model,__"__ Eve interjected, having been silently watching the whole exchange. __"__If Kathryn was the impetus for Caroline__'__s murder and . . .,__"__ she paused, taking a breath to look at Grace._

"_Derrick.__"_

"_And Derrick was the instrument, then the instrument developed his own agenda.__"_

"_He killed for his sister, either because she was jealous or he thought she was being unfairly treated. Or because she told him to. He may have even wanted Caroline for himself. Whichever the reason I believe he__'__s the killer. It fulfilled something in him.__"_

"_But he only killed three. . .__"__ Spencer tried again._

"_Can you go back to the other women with a photo, Stella,__"__ Grace asked. __"__See if they remember anything?__"_

"_I__'__ll go with her,__"__ Eve offered. __"__Anyone asks we__'__ve gone to get lunch.__"__ She smiled at Grace as she rose to her feet. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season seven to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: This follows on from Season seven, probably about six months later**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

**Part twelve**

Grace sat at her desk, drinking herbal tea in the hope of regaining her equilibrium, and re-reading through her files in the hope of finding more concrete evidence. The more she read them, the more she was convinced that her instincts were right. It was times like these that she hated the fact Boyd was her boss, hated the fact that she wasn't more like him, and strong enough to circumvent him and get what she wanted. It didn't help her mood that he had disappeared from his office and she couldn't yell at him. The ringing of the phone only added to her annoyance. "Grace Foley," she said, snatching it up.

"Its me."

Grace didn't need telling twice. "Yeah, well, I don't know if I want to talk to you."

"Well that's grown up," Boyd grumbled.

"I'm hanging up." She slammed down the phone and waited. It rang almost instantly. "What?"

"Very professional."

Grace rolled her eyes. The two of them really did bring out the worst in each other. Sometimes they acted like teenagers, in more ways than one. "If you've got nothing worthwhile to say, Peter, then . . "

The use of his first name was nearly always a sign he was in trouble. Unless of course they were in bed and the use of his name meant something entirely different.

"I'm in the interview room."

"And?" she asked, her voice challenging him to say something stupid.

"You're not making this easy." There were times he just wanted to kiss her to shut her up, this was one of them.

"Says Mr Congeniality."

He sighed and continued to walk around the table. "Come down and we can yell at each other without an audience."

"What makes you think I'm going to yell." She didn't need to ask about him, he was certain to scream at her.

"A hunch."

Grace returned the phone to it's cradle and walked purposefully out of her office and up the steps.

"Everything okay?" Spencer asked, catching sight of her in his peripheral vision.

"Yeah. Just taking a walk. I'll be back before Stella and Eve are." She disappeared around the corner and he returned to his work, completely unaware as always to what was happening around him.

Grace stood in the viewing room, watching her boss, her friend and lover pace the room. She could tell from his pacing and his hand frantically running through his hair that he was agitated. Finally, she opened the door and entered. After a few seconds of silence and staring at each other, she said, "I don't understand what the problem is. You're not adverse to stretching the rules or the truth for that matter."

"I don't lie, Grace," he stated firmly, for a brief moment wondering what sort of man she thought he was.

She pulled a face and glared back at him.

"Oh for God's sake, you don't have any evidence."

"I have a theory, which is a little more than the gut instinct we normally go on."

"I'm not wrong," he offered with conviction, his voice rising with each statement.

"Neither am I." She continued to glare at him from across the desk. With distance between them it was easier to argue and ignore the feelings between them.

"Yeah, but if I'm wrong, it's on me, if you're wrong . . ."

"It's on me. And as you've told me frequently I'm a grown up," she retorted, throwing his words back at him. "I'm not asking you to deal with the fallout. I'm asking you to trust me."

"Now that's unfair."

"Is it? Really? I'm talking about you totally disregarding my ideas. What is it you call them, oh yeah, hocus pocus. You don't listen to me because apparently only you have good ideas. . ."

Boyd drifted out of the lecture he had heard so many times. Her dark eyes were drawing him in and he remembered how damn horny she made him when she was all riled up. Not exactly the image he needed when he was ready for a fight, a fight he needed to have in a safe environment, and one where he couldn't hurt anyone. 

"See you're doing it now. For gods sake, Boyd." Once again she was trying to have a serious professional discussion and he was looking at her like he was undressing her. It drove her crazy in more ways than one.

"I'm listening. I just think you're losing the plot. . .I mean missing the point."

"Freudian slip?" she asked, her voice laced with anger.

"No. Think about it Grace. You want me to arrest a woman because you think it was her brother who killed our victims," he shouted, his hand colliding with the top of the table.

"So you do listen."

"When there's something worth hearing," he acknowledged dryly.

"You frustrate the life out of me."

"The feeling's mutual," he snapped back, his voice sounding too loud, even to himself, in the small confines of the room.

She turned away from him, her anger too close to the surface. It wasn't that they didn't fight, it was just sometimes they drew blood, more often than not they didn't know when to stop. She had learnt to pull herself back from the brink the hard way. "Just this once, Boyd, let me do it my way."

"What if you're right . . .?"

"Yeah, what if I am?" she asked rhetorically. 

". . . and you bring her in. You get nothing and you don't get a second chance," Boyd continued, ignoring her interruption. "She could get away with it and her brother takes the blame."

"You sound like you believe me," Grace commented, her lips quirking up into a smile.

Boyd shook his head and turned away so she couldn't see his own smile. "It's never been about what I believe."

"So help me nail her."

He turned briefly.

"Yeah, yeah, I've been hanging around you and Spence a little too much," Grace offered with a smile.

"Okay, invite her in, invite all of them in. Just be careful."

"I know where the line is," she replied firmly.

He didn't point out they had crossed the line many an evening in his office. "Just give me what you've got - the profile, their files and how it's connected," he said sullenly.

Grace crossed the room towards the door. "It's a shame we never argue like this out of work. The make up sex would be great."

He mumbled something inaudible, his eyes drawn to the glass and who might be watching.

Grace rolled her eyes in silent acknowledgment that he would never be ready for them to be outed, slamming the door behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you for all the positive feedback, it is very much appreciated. This was probably the hardest chapter to write because it wouldn't flow but it's a means to an end. For those of you that enjoy the angst stick with it as I can promise the next few chapters will keep you happy.

For those reading "In The Woods" it will be a couple weeks before it's finished as I'm off on holiday this weekend and I'm trying to get more of this posted first.

**Part thirteen**

"Where's Peter?" Kathryn asked, as Grace entered the interview room, Stella close on her heels.

"He's busy," Grace offered dismissively. Boyd was standing a few feet away behind the glass, insisting on observing when it was clear she wouldn't let him carry out the questioning. The argument had been short and sweet for once, Grace handing him her profile on Kathryn as she opened the interview room door.

Stella took her seat, inserting a tape into the recorder and pressing record before she opened up the grey folder. "Mrs Harper, my name is Detective Constable Goodman. Also present is Dr Grace Foley. Could you state your name for the tape."

"I'm sorry," Kathryn said, shaking her head, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the desk. "I don't understand."

"We're investigating a murder, Mrs Harper. In a murder enquiry everything needs to be recorded." Stella found she didn't like her either, which had nothing to do with her looks or the fact she was immaculately presented but more to do with the vibes the woman gave off.

Grace leaned back in her seat and listened. She had no intention of doing anything, at least not to begin with, instead allowing Stella to irritate the hell out of her suspect. The suspect clearly liked to play games and Grace had every intention of playing one of her own.

"Could you state your full name, please."

"Kathryn Elizabeth Ann Harper-Collins."

Control freak, Grace thought, most certainly not an obedient little wife. In fact if Grace was right, and she knew she was, she was sitting opposite a cold manipulative killer. She briefly allowed her thoughts to wander to Anthony Harper and how he would react when he found out the truth.

"We're investigating the murder of Caroline Hedges," Stella explained. "She went missing in July 1988. Her body was found a week ago."

"As I told Peter, I don't know her," Kathryn said, gazing between the two women at the glass panel.

For a moment Grace thought she might pull out her compact and start touching up her make up. She needed to have a serious talk with her boyfriend at some point, Grace concluded, because he seriously attracted the wrong sort of women - psychopathic psychologists, secretive American bitches and now a murderess. The woman was clearly all about manipulating men and Boyd was more often than not an easy target. She would be jealous but it took up too much energy.

"Caroline and your husband, Anthony. . .," Stella continued, her eyes firmly directed at her interviewee, waiting for a reaction. ". . . were lovers in 1988. In fact we know from friends and family that they even discussed travelling to Israel and working there for a while."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed as she tried to look away. It had to be a lie, she told herself, but in truth she had no idea what her husband had planned before her parents intervened.

On the other side of the window, Boyd glanced at Spencer and nodded. "Remind me not to play poker with these two."

Stella glanced down at her file, controlling her breathing as she followed Grace's game plan. It was simple they would drop little half truths in with facts, throw in a little psychology and hopefully un nerve Kathryn enough to get what they needed. "But that's not why we're here."

For a brief moment Kathryn forgot her composure her eyes darting first to Stella then to Grace, dark anger reflecting back. It hadn't occurred to her that she might need a lawyer, and now she began to wonder if she'd miscalculated.

"I'm actually more interested in your brother." The young redhead pretended to read the file.

"Derrick?" she asked innocently. "What has Derrick got to do with this?" Her eyes betrayed her.

Grace leaned forward in her seat, her persona changing in one fluid movement. Everyone underestimated her, sure they knew she was intelligent maybe even gifted but what they saw was a harmless old woman with a preference for mumsy clothes, and it worked to her advantage. "We know about the institutionalisation. Derrick's institutionalisation."

If looks could kill, Grace would have fallen to the floor as Kathryn Harper glared at her. Grace's hunch was right - the woman had spent some time in therapy - she just wished she could get the file. "We know about his fixation on you. Probably something to do with you raising him. When did it manifest itself?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I see from his records he spent some time in a facility for teenagers." The report told Grace a lot more but she wasn't going to use it unless she needed to, which was the difference between her and Boyd. "What's his defence mechanism? Repression? Projection? Transference? Because it certainly isn't denial."

The expression that fleeted across Kathryn's face told Grace it wasn't the first time she had heard those terms, and definitely not in reference to her brother.

Stella slid the file across the desk towards Grace.

"You have no right to ask about my brother," Kathryn stammered, confused by what was happening. They couldn't know about Derrick, no one did because her parents had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure nobody did.

"Five sexual assaults and three murders give me just cause," Grace stated with conviction.

Kathryn tensed up, rising to her feet suddenly and beginning to pace, her arms moving through the air as though she was conducting an orchestra.

In the interview room the two men stiffened, all too aware of how quickly an interview could turn nasty.

"You don't think she's gonna turn violent on us, do you Boss?" Spence asked, his eyes trained on the suspect as she stared at the glass, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"My money's on Stella," Boyd replied casually, turning to look at the younger man.

"You realise you're gonna have to use the words."

"What words?" he asked, confusion etched across his features.

"I was wrong and you were right," Spencer smirked.

"In your dreams," Boyd retorted, returning his attention to the woman who was slowly becoming unhinged, Grace having hit her trigger point.

Spencer's smirk widened. There were many things in his dreams, and not a single one of them involved Boyd, although Eve and Stella and whipped cream frequented them.

"I need for you to sit down, Mrs Harper," Stella said firmly, shifting in her seat.

"I think I would like to speak to your boss," Kathryn stated, twiddling her hair between her fingers.

And I could give damn what you would like, Stella thought to herself. "As I said, he's unavailable."

"I can wait." It was her final attempt at trying to take control of the situation.

Stella gave her a slight smile and waited for Grace to intervene.

"I'm not so sure your brother can, Kathryn. My colleagues are about to charge Derrick with murder," Grace said flatly. "And when they're done, I'd imagine there will be charges of rape, attempted rape and assault."

Kathryn dropped down onto her seat. "Oh God." She knew she should say something, argue that they were off track but all she could think about was herself. It seemed more beneficial in that second to play innocent victim, a role she had gotten very good at, than to argue.

"What we want to know is how Derrick knew Caroline," Grace continued. They would have to interview her again later to ascertain how much of a part she played in the murder but for now all they needed was one small piece of information. "Because we all know he did." She had decided that Spencer could interview her next time because he wouldn't buy the act either, not to mention Grace really wanted to see Kathryn put in her place.

Boyd began to pace the viewing room, the woman's demeanour finally convincing him that Grace had been right. He was frustrated and angry and wanted to get in there. As much as he trusted Grace, as much as she had people skills he didn't, she lacked a little punch when it came to getting answers. It was time to turn up the heat but Grace was still treading lightly.

"Kathryn?" Grace prompted.

She sighed deeply, her own skin foremost in her mind. "He didn't know her. He saw her with Anthony in the park near the pharmacy, or at least I guess that was Caroline."

"You need to push her harder, Grace," Boyd said through her earpiece.

Grace leaned further forward, giving Kathryn her full attention. "And he told you," she said softly.

A nod was all she received in response.

"I need you to speak up for the tape," Stella interjected.

"Yes, Derrick came home and told me. I didn't believe him at first. Thought he was trying to rattle me," she said, struggling to control her composure. "He was agitated. Kept going on about them kissing. He loves me."

Grace wasn't sure if she was referring to her brother or Anthony but it didn't matter.

"Ask her, damn it," Boyd shouted.

Calmly Grace removed the earpiece, effectively silencing him.

"Bloody woman, " Boyd shouted, slamming his fist on the desk.

Spencer shrugged, a small part of him amused. "You've done it to her enough times."

Boyd shot him a look, his path to the interview room halted by the sound of Grace's voice.

"Which you manipulate, knowingly or unwittingly. You're responsible for what happened, Kathryn, I know it and you know it. Derrick killed her for you."

She shook her head as the tears fell, her mind frantically trying to find something to justify her actions, innocence no longer plausible. "Not for me." She glanced up, her cheeks streaked with black trails of tears, her eyes dark. "For Anthony."

Stella glanced at Grace, her eyes asking questions she couldn't vocalise.

--

"Well this is a mess," Spencer commented dryly as they gathered in the viewing room a few minutes later.

Kathryn had broken down in tears and Stella had halted the interview at Grace's request. A young WPC now sat beyond the glass as Kathryn continued to cover her face with her hands.

"Grace?" Boyd asked, his voice uncharacteristically controlled, his body language telling a very different story.

"Well despite the little act and I'm pretty sure she's used it before, she's lying. Or she's kidding herself. Everything I've read on Derrick Collins says he's infatuated with his sister. Anthony has nothing to do with this, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And for someone who's as narcissistic as she is, she certain likes to pass the blame."

He rolled his eyes. "Grace."

"He killed Caroline and Kathryn knew about it, either then or later."

"Ok, I'm going in there to interview the brother. What do I need to know?" Boyd snapped, his hands placed firmly on the counter as he stared through the glass at the middle aged man, who he fully suspected had done just what Grace alleged.

She was about to argue and demand he stay out and let her continue but the look in his eyes told her she was wasting her time. "That I'm coming in there with you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season seven to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: This follows on from Season seven, probably about six months later**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

**Part Fourteen**

Derrick Collins was the opposite of his sister. He sat in the interview room, picking at his nails and glancing at his watch, his body language showing no indication of discomfort, merely boredom.

Grace entered the room and took a seat opposite him, acknowledging him briefly as she waited for Boyd to join her.

Boyd remained standing, his hands firmly gripping the back of the chair.

That should have been all the warning Grace needed to postpone the interview or at least get Spencer to join them. The second was when Boyd released the chair with a shove and began pacing. She had worked with him long enough to read the signs, his body language and to predict exactly what would happen. His anger and frustration filled the room like a pressure cooker about to go off. Grace knew all to well what Boyd going off the boil entailed.

"So you and your sister then, a little Freudian thing going on," Boyd started and Grace inwardly cringed.

Derrick stared back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Although how your sister tells it I'm probably more your type."

Hatred flickered mildly beneath Derrick's eyes as he turned his attention towards Grace.

"Mr Collins, we would like to ask you some questions," Grace began, slowly opening the manila file in front of her.

"Where's my sister?" he asked, his voice neutral as though they were talking about the weather.

Grace turned the page of her folder. "She's being questioned too."

"What can you tell us about Caroline Hedges?"

"Who?"

Boyd's eyes flickered with anger. "Caroline Hedges." He placed two hands on the desk and leaned forward.

Derrick continued to smile smugly as he shrugged.

Boyd hadn't expected it to be easy but he hated to be played, hated that the pieces had taken so long to fit into place. First Kathryn had led him a merry dance and now her brother was acting like he didn't have a care in the world. He didn't care how he got it, but Boyd was going to nail him. "What about Marie? Or Stephanie Hayes? Or Karen . . ."

"Who?"

"You didn't even know their names," Boyd shouted, the desk suddenly sliding across the floor with the force of his body.

The suspect leaned back in his seat, his face inscrutable.

It briefly crossed Grace's mind that he hadn't yet asked for a lawyer.

"What was it? They turned you down. You couldn't perform. Or maybe they just didn't live up to your sister," Boyd snorted, his frame leaning further and further forward. "Or maybe you did it all for Kathryn and then she still didn't want you."

"Boyd," Grace warned, reaching out to lightly touch his arm, intent on getting through to him. He was no longer asking questions, the interview out of hand.

He shrugged her off and moved further into the suspect's space, his voice reverberating around the room as he continued to fire innuendo and accusations at the man they were all now convinced had killed at least one young woman.

"Boyd!" She almost never raised her voice because she didn't need to. The team all knew when she was on the edge, when control was slipping away. Even Boyd had learnt to heed her low calm warnings. Except he was out of control, beyond reason. "Boyd, stop it."

Silence engulfed the room, as he abruptly stopped shouting, his hands stopping mid gesture and falling to his sides. He wasn't sure if he was entirely conscious, his actions beyond his control. The suspect came into focus and all he could hear was his own ragged breathing.

"Boyd," Grace said more softly.

Peter Boyd was beyond her reach. The last thing he wanted was to turn and look at the woman he loved and have her see what he was sure was written across his face. Abruptly he walked out of the room and headed towards his office.

"He's a lunatic," the middle aged suspect announced when he found himself alone with the profiler.

Grace wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Her heart was telling her to leave the room and go after him, her head was telling her to leave it to someone else, someone who could get him the help he needed. Instinct told her to continue. "Shut up."

He looked momentarily stunned.

"I could have him. . ." Derrick started, his voice faltering as Grace interrupted.

"You don't have the grounds. He didn't physically abuse you." For which Grace would be eternally grateful. "And you were being deliberately evasive."

Stella entered the room and took the seat beside her. "DC Stella Goodman entering the room. I'm suspending this interview at six thirty six pm." She turned and nodded to someone beyond the glass. "You'll be held overnight. We'll search your residence in the morning. Kathryn decided to share," she added for Grace's benefit.

Grace rose to her feet and walked purposefully through the building, her thoughts fixed on Boyd and his outburst. She stopped abruptly when she came to his empty office. "Where's Boyd?" she asked as Spencer appeared beside her.

"Who knows?"

"Can you phone and see if his car's in the car park?"

"You know Boyd."

She turned to face him and the expression on her face had him reaching for the phone. "This is DI Jordan. Is the Boss's car . . . Okay. No, it's fine." He turned back to Grace. "He left about ten minutes ago."

"Damn," Grace cursed, her eyes casting about as she tried to figure out her next move.

"Grace, he'll be fine, "Spencer tried, his voice meant to soothe but failing.

"No, he won't. Bugger it. He's about three minutes from a major depressive episode. He knows it and he knows I know it. The worst thing for him right now is to be out there somewhere. . . Alone. Decompensating." She cursed herself for ignoring the signs for us long as she had.

"Where do you wanna look?" Spencer finally asked, watching as she carried out an internal argument with herself.

"What about. . .?" Grace began, returning momentarily to the present, Boyd's mood swings and nightmares compartmentalised.

"He'll keep." Spencer wasn't entirely sure what was going happen but he knew Grace well enough that she wasn't prone to hysteria. He also owed Boyd much more than either man would ever talk about. "It might do him some good to stew a while."

Grace nodded. "Okay, you want to take the pubs, I'll try his place, the cemetery."

"Take Stella with you," Spencer ordered, taking charge.

--

Grace sank down onto the steps and covered her face with her hands. They had been out looking for hours and had come up with nothing. It was after midnight and snow had finally turned to hail and now rain. The streets were almost deserted and she had run out of ideas. It wasn't until she tasted the saltiness that she realised tears were streaming down her face.

Stella didn't know what to do, something which seemed to be becoming quite common. Spence had told her to stay with Grace and go wherever she was told. After ten minutes of sitting in the car she had finally come looking for the doctor, only to find her sat crying. Torn between going to her and returning to the car she hovered a short distance away, waiting for Grace to stop sobbing. Finally, chilled to the bone and realising that Grace wasn't going to stop anytime soon, Stella quietly approached her. "Grace?"

Grace took a deep intake of breath. "He's not here," she managed between the sobbing.

"Where to next?"

The psychological profiler finally looked up, wiping the salty tears away with her finger tips. "I've run out of ideas."

Stella gave her a small smile in acknowledgement that she wasn't ready to give up. "I have one."

"Yes?"

It had come to her while she had watched Grace cry. The demeanour of the older woman had confirmed her own suspicious and the more she considered it the more she had suspected that it was not a one way thing. "Your house."

Grace looked at in confusion, then snapped, "You think Boyd's sat in my living room drinking tea?"

"That would depend on whether he has a key." Stella's smile widened. "But I know if I was in trouble and didn't know where to go I'd come looking for you," the young DC offered softly.

It had the desired effect of dragging Grace from her maudlin thoughts. She rose to her feet, swaying slightly.

Stella reached out and caught her. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

Lunch was a distant memory and supper had been foregone in favour of searching for her errant partner. "I'm fine."

"Shall we go test my theory then?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Well I'm finally getting around to finishing this. Life has been crazy of late and I haven't had time to read fanfic let alone write any. This is the penultimate part so it's almost there. **

**Part fifteen**

Her heart almost stopped as they turned into Grace's road in anticipation of finding him or maybe not finding him. Grace wasn't sure by that point which would be worse. The one thing she was certain of was that she would do anything and go anywhere to save him. The little things no longer mattered to her as long as Boyd was alright. The sight of him sitting on her doorstep brought her heart into her mouth and she had to stifle the sob that almost escaped her.

"Do you need me to stay?" Stella asked, gently stroking Grace's arm to get her attention. The older woman hadn't moved from the now stationary car, she just sat staring at the shivering cold man on her doorstep.

Grace shook her head firmly. She knew she had nothing to fear from Boyd, she only feared whether she would be too late to prevent the meltdown that had been looming since she had first met him. Even in his current state Grace knew he wouldn't want Stella there to witness his emotional breakdown, instead she would have to deal with it alone. "I'll be fine. Just let Spencer know everything's okay."

"If you need me, call me," Stella said gently, knowing instinctively that things were far from alright, and that maybe the worst was yet to come. "Or Spencer or Eve." She waited for Grace to climb out of the car and watched as she paused at the gate before she started the car and drove off, watching in her rear view mirror as Grace made her way up the path.

"Hi," he said, scrambling to his feet and gazing at her like a pathetic puppy.

"Hi." Grace allowed her eyes to appraise him. He was dripping wet and shivering, but sober, which she supposed was progress in the scheme of things. "Do you want to come in?"

"I didn't know where else to go," he admitted candidly, standing before her looking anything but the controlling antagonist she knew so well.

Grace nodded. "It's okay. I'll make some coffee and you can get out of those clothes." Grace turned the key in the lock. "Go on up and take a shower."

Boyd followed her inside and stood dripping on her hardwood floors, the water running into the gaps in the boards. There was so much he needed to say but at times words evaded him and he could only stare at her and hope that she, and only she, would understand.

"Boyd!" It was worse than she had feared and he was looking at her like she held all the answers. She didn't.

"I thought you'd yell, scream, I don't know." He stared at her in confusion, her reaction anything but what he expected, maybe a little in awe at how she was handling it.

"Don't do it again," she said simply, resisting the urge to pull him to her, finally settling on slipping out of her coat and realising that she was soaked through to her bra. "I'll start the shower." When he still didn't move she grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the stairs. "You're gonna have to help me here, Peter."

He nodded mutely, his body seemingly out of his control as he followed her through the house leaving a wet trail behind him, his hand firmly engulfed in hers.

Grace walked in the bathroom and turned on the shower. Assured the water was hot and there were fresh towels on the radiator she headed towards her bedroom. "Get in."

Silently, Boyd undressed, stepping under the water, and standing there staring into space, barely reacting to how hot the water was. It had never been easy for him to ask for help but when his brain had finally processed what was happening he knew he needed help. Grace was the only person he could think of that he trusted but now the words escaped him and he was back to hoping she'd knew him well enough to help.

Wrapped in a thick towelling dressing gown, Grace paused in the doorway, watching him, her mind trying desperately to comprehend what she could do for him. Time and again it came back to getting him to talk to someone. The problem was persuading him it was the right thing to do. Five minutes later he had barely moved so reluctantly she slipped out of the gown and stepped under the water, pushing him to one side.

The feel of her body, warm and slick from the water brought him back to the present. She was looking up at him, studying his face so intently that he realised she knew everything and for the first time in a few hours he thought things might be okay.

Grace stepped out from under the shower and pulled a towel from the radiator, patting herself dry. She waited for him to follow but he was staring at her, his head tilted to one side as if he wanted to say something. "Boyd."

"I'm tired." It was an admittance on his part that he wasn't superman and easier than asking for what he really needed.

"Well get out and we can go to bed."

He raised an eyebrow half-heartedly and she rolled her eyes.

"We both need to sleep, Boyd. There's nothing that can't be fixed in the morning." Silently she held out her hand and he finally took it, stepping out onto the tiled floor, oblivious to the chill in the room. "Come on, you'll catch your death," she chided, grabbing a towel and beginning to pat him dry. "I think there are some pyjamas in the drawer and I'll grab some blankets."

"Grace," he said softly, finally stilling her hands.

She glanced up and took a sharp breath as she caught sight of the tears staining his cheeks. Wordlessly she wrapped her body around his, sinking to the floor with him as she waited for the tears to stop.

--

Grace watched as the early morning turned into daylight, dawn a stark reminder that she hadn't slept. Turning from the window she returned to watching him sleep. His features softer than in his consciousness, his demons banished for a brief time, his dreams for once calm. There were moments like these when she wished they could be like other couples, couples who argued, had make up sex and didn't see the horrors they did. It also wasn't them and it didn't scrape the surface of everything they felt. Last night had changed something for both of them although she wasn't sure what yet. When the sobbing had subsided she had managed to get him into a pair of navy blue pyjamas and wrapped herself around him, talk stilted, as she waited for him to fall asleep. The snow had started again in earnest as she listened to him snore and the world carrying on beyond the window.

He stirred and the duvet slipped from his body. A smile quirked at her lips and she couldn't stop herself moving towards him. Gently so not as to wake him, Grace pulled the quilt over him. The tension from the night before was gone but she knew they were far from out of the woods. He needed help, someone who was rational and separate from the situation and she was neither of those things.

"You could come back to bed," he mumbled into the pillow.

"Sh, go back to sleep."

Boyd opened one eye as his hand slid across the bed to grab hers. "Indulge me, Grace."

The small smile he gave her was enough to earn him a kiss. Wordlessly, she waited for him to slide onto the cold side that she had vacated hours before she climbed in beside him, snuggling against the warm pillow as he wrapped his arms firmly around her.

"Thank you," he whispered before placing a light kiss against her collarbone.

He didn't specify what for but she knew it was for more than the slight indulgence.


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: The Day is Closing In**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Up to and including season seven to be on the safe side**

**Authors Notes: This follows on from Season seven, probably about six months later**

**Disclaimer: Waking the Dead does not belong to me and I always return the characters unharmed.**

--

**Chapter Sixteen**

Grace couldn't remember the last time she had left Boyd asleep in bed while she headed off to work. As happy as the image left her she couldn't shake the thought that he was in trouble. His final promise as she had bustled around her house getting dressed had been that he would call someone and see her later. As much as she believed him it was still with some trepidation she had driven to the Cold Case Headquarters. Grace gathered her belongings from her car, stuffing books and keys and scarves into the oversized bag and walked through the building and into the office. She stopped abruptly, every muscle in her body tightening, her heart beating a little faster, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene.

Spencer rose to his feet and made a move towards her, his path blocked by the man in full police uniform.

"Good morning, Grace."

"Assistant Chief Constable." She nodded, her eyes moving briefly to each of her colleagues.

"Shall we take this in Boyd's office." He held out his arm and waited for her to enter before he closed the door behind them.

She tried unsuccessfully to catch Spencer's eye to find out what was happening before she found herself alone with the man who was about to ruin her day.

"Where's Boyd?" He stared at her without a hint of compassion.

Grace pondered denying any knowledge of her boyfriend's whereabouts but she knew Stella, at least, knew where he had last been. The chances were half the force now knew about their relationship. "He's out taking care of a few things. Arranging interviews"

The ACC nodded, looking totally unconvinced. "I'm going to have to suspend him, Grace."

"Why?" She knew she sounded defensive but she couldn't help herself. They were in whatever it was together and as she had lay against his chest listening to his heart beating that morning there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

"My understanding is that you were present at the interview," he said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the desk, Boyd's computer unceremoniously pushed aside and his files too neatly stacked.

It irked Grace to see someone other than Boyd sat there and to know that he wouldn't be back there for a while. A momentary thought flittered through her mind and she knew then that she didn't want to be there if he wasn't. "Collins lodged a complaint?"

His silence was confirmation enough, not that she needed it, as the team would never had said anything, not without knowing the facts. "He didn't touch him. He wouldn't and I wouldn't have let him." Grace held her bag more tightly against her chest.

"He's out of control, Grace. His tempers. His moods. His methods. Can't you talk to him?"

"He's one of the best officers I've ever worked with." It sounded pathetic but sitting there listing Boyd's plus points wasn't going to change the situation. In truth it would only serve to get them both into trouble.

"Then maybe he just needs a holiday." It was a throw away comment laced with sarcasm.

She chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, what do you suggest? Two weeks on a sun bed reading Frederick Forsyth and Patricia Cornwell. An adventure holiday bungy jumping. . ." Grace stopped abruptly, as close to stepping over the line as she had ever been.

"I don't care if he checks into the Priory. He's suspended for two weeks. And if I decide he needs longer then . . .," the ACC trailed off, avoiding her eyes. "Then we'll see. Spencer can tie up the case and anything else that comes in. Boyd will need a psych examination before he comes back." He looked suddenly uncomfortable. "As much as I respect you, Grace, I don't think you're objective enough when it comes to Peter. And if you haven't already suggested to him to get counselling then you've proved me right."

Grace glanced up at him defiantly. "Work keeps him going."

"I hope he has more than that, Grace," he said sincerely, settling himself into Boyd's chair. "Spence would like you in on the interview. They've been waiting for you."

It was a dismissal she knew but she waited for him to look her in the eye before she turned on her heel. "Thank you, Sir."

Grace strode into her office and threw her belongings onto the couch before leaning against her desk. It was somewhat ironic that Boyd had finally asked for help and was about to lose his job. She knew he would probably see it as the world ending or his paranoia would set in and he'd see it all as a conspiracy, replaying every conversation that they'd had making it so much harder for himself.

"Spence wants to know if you're ready," Stella asked, quietly entering the room and hovering by the door. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, resisting the urge to ask the questions they all had.

Grace nodded not turning, "Just getting my head together."

"You want me to let you know when he shows up?" the young DC asked hesitantly.

There was a moment of silence and a lack of response as Grace contemplated the decision that she had made moments before in Boyd's office. "Yeah, thanks Stella. And . . . Can you fax this to the Home Office." She walked around the desk, opening a drawer before pulling out a sheet of paper. Seconds later she handed over the hastily filled in form.

Stella glanced down at the sheet of paper and back at Grace, a horrified expression on her face. "Grace?"

The Psychologist gave her a small smile before stepping past her and patting her arm. "Boyd isn't the only one who needs a holiday, Stella."

"A holiday?"

Grace paused by the door, unwilling to face her friend. "If it becomes permanent you'll be the first to know," she said, reiterating a promise she had made to the woman's predecessor.

"You understand it's snowing, right?" Boyd asked, wrapping his arms around him and stepping out onto the patio, closing the door firmly behind him.

"The night sky is clear. There's Stars everywhere," she replied, turning to him with a smile.

"The heating's on inside. There's soup on the stove, warm bread in the oven. The match on the telly," he offered, trying to encourage her inside.

"I like it out here." In truth she liked to think outside whatever the weather, it gave her a clear head and a sense of equilibrium.

"You don't have to do this." He'd been more than adamant that she didn't have to take time off when she told him. They'd debated it over lunch and he predicted would still be debating it at bedtime.

"I need a holiday." Grace turned away, confirming his suspicions.

"Grace!" His arms slipped effortlessly around her from behind and pulled her back against her chest.

"It's done," Grace said simply, leaning into his embrace and enjoying the warmth.

He smiled against her hair. "So what do you want to do?"

"You're the one who hasn't had a holiday in a decade." Her laugh was forced, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "And I think you should postpone the evaluation until we get back."

"You're gonna help me beat it?" Peter asked, surprised.

Grace turned slowly in his embrace, tilting her head to look into his face. "I'm going to ignore the small print in my police contract and help you deal with some of your issues."

"Okay." He smiled down at her, pondering whether to ask how much longer she would have a police contract but it was a question for another night.

"Okay? No argument?"

"Arguing is pointless. Besides, I have faith in you, Grace."

"Oh dear," Grace laughed for the first time all day

Boyd gently leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I also have faith in things unseen. More importantly I'll do whatever you say to spend two weeks watching you walk around in a bikini."

Grace raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Between therapy sessions and you know, when we actually get out of bed," Peter chuckled, his eyes trained firmly on her lips.

"Boyd!" she warned gently, suddenly warming to the idea, her vocal consternation dissipating as his lips found hers.

The snow fell silently around them as the kiss deepened and the phone rang somewhere in the house. Finally he broke away, his hand reaching for hers and leading her into the house, the rest of the world shut out for another day.

**The End**


End file.
